Chatyr Dag

Chatyr Dag stands crisp
against Crimea’s warm sky.
I stand on Chatyr Dag,
buffeted by winds from
sea and steppe.
On Chatyr Dag stands
a stone
covered in graffiti or calligraphy
in three languages
and four shades of chalk.
The words translate like this:
“If you’ve climbed this high
pray for peace over Crimea.”
Under the chalk inscription stand
a chalk cross,
a chalk star of David,
a chalk crescent moon.
Now I hunch in the lee
Of that stone and wonder who
else has stood or squatted here
resting, praying, wishing
they could decipher the Cyrillic.
And I wonder who
stood wielding that chalk,
stretching up and up,
leaning against the wind
to make the letters large enough
to outlast our momentary trouble?