Poetry

Inexplicably Remembering Genesis 3:19 at 5,396m / Annina Zheng-Hardy

Forest such as love, the trail sign affixed to a tree says,
fire on everyone. And for a moment I startle at the violence
of it — fire on everyone — so seemingly out of place
here in these woods on the mountain. Right after love.
So certain in its presentation, yet so unclear — fire
on everyone — it is both and neither command 
nor declaration. Until I read the Chinese written beneath,
as context beside the painting, the author’s note 
after the poem. 护林如爱家，防火靠大家。 
What I’d say: Protect the forest as though you love your home,
fire prevention depends on us all. Later, curious, I ask
Google Translate for a second opinion; it parses 
the opening: forest care is like home. And the next:
fire depends on everyone. The fables we make of our
straightforward origins. Bearing in mind the world,
it should be not so difficult to imagine this snowy ground ablaze,
the sky redder than its fires, air solid as dirt. And yet… When snow
blankets thickly a landscape, it seems only myths should qualify to
move through. Closer — it feels, here —
to where the sky originates, than where it touches
the dust, the ash committing our bodies to this earth. 

Brief life a given, 
vow to touch with tenderness — 
given fire’s breadth

Annina Zheng-Hardy (she/her) is a poet living in London. Her poems and short fiction are forthcoming or have appeared in Joyland, Catapult, bath magg, Honey Literary, and elsewhere.