The crushing cold, opens up souls

To the ends of the earth;

And back again.

A plethora of polysynthesis,

qanuk, kaneq, kanevvluk, pirta;

Each falls, glows.

The perma-threat of becoming lost

sound of slow dripping;

Water cowering into frost.

A trace, an impression, left

no possession, it’s eerie;

A question?

Terror, and fear mixing into

a place so bright light;

It is darkening, full circle.

It calls me, it owns me, this

cry from the past;

An icy shadow - unlast.