Snow Child (Petrarchan sonnet)
Snow Child awaken, from hibernation
The wind needs your touch, the clouds your paintbrush
The gates need your key, the night your hush
Would you lay over us your white blanket?
The fire has scorched all our faces
We have been branded by our feuds and lust
We need your wolven children to herd us again
For we have lost our way in all our ways
I look at my people’s tainted path
And I am filled with sorrow and purpose
The snow will come back, we will be restored
I will put out the fire with my left hand
The right will heal all my people’s flesh wounds
The old ways are new, the snow is falling.