Freedom is ignited

freedom is ignited by the crimson orange flames

of the latest forest fire.

freedom is the metamorphosis of the evergreen pines

of the san bernadino mountains

reborn into fragile cracking tree stumps

whose skin comes off like cigarette ash at the brush

of our fingertips.

freedom is the scraps of ashy gray tree bark

like shards of glass crackling under the pressure

of each of our steps.

freedom is chasing after a mountain blue jay

who dances and sings for the sky without now a branch to perch on

rhythmically beating his wings in his own couplets of poetry—

the blue jay, the trees reborn into dust like cigarette ash

the ashy gray tree bark like shards of glass shattering

beneath the pressure of each of our steps.

freedom is what remains after the crimson orange forest fire.