Wild Place
The world’s
a wild place
Full of earthquakes, winds and
fires
Where flames
and tsunamis spin
In the chasm between
Darkness and
light. We’re all living on razor wires.
The world’s
full of dangers
Dangers at home, dangers in far
places
Riots,
bombs, and bullets, in and out of school.
Dangers in the
beauties of Mother Nature,
Of miles and miles of
Lodge-pole
pines, old and tall, dead of beetles,
Sunny weather and warm winters.
Where majestic
mountain storms create electric
Power neither air nor ground can
insulate
From the ragged
bolt that ignites dry needles.
Tree litter, the dung of a
forest, lying waiting.
The world’s
an evil space
Full of wars and hatred,
Arrows by
day and the plague by night
Where lives
lived well,
And the best of strength and
humor
Courage and
righteousness, husbands, fathers, brothers, friends,
Cannot stem the flood of flame
And we
grieve, and stumble on in the grey
Ash that remains
Where once
walked trees, and men
Praying for redemption, eternity,
and resurrection.
But this is
the red earth, Adam,
Of which I am made. I will not live
Would not,
anywhere but here
And as a man.
Like him. Like them.
For Joel, on
the line in the West Fork Complex
For the
Granite Mountain Hotshots, down on Yarnell Hill
