The Icerose - Sheila Francis
A pure white rose did come to bloom,
Upon the surface of the moon,
It flourished in the icy air,
Its beauty banished dark despaire,
Its name was innocence.
On earth a baby harp seal plays,
His mother close beside him stays,
Protectively beside him lays,
While he enjoys his newborn days,
Rolling over and over again,
On the perfect, pristine plane,
Ice crystals sparkle; diamond white,
Such brilliant beauty blinds the sight.
Beneath the icefloes, shadows dance,
Satin coated seals advance,
Through a piercing sunlight lance,
They captivate and entrance,
Through underwater caverns race,
With exquisite gliding grace,
Ice gems glisten changing hue;
Emerald green and sapphire blue.
The surface breaks, a head pops up,
Central to the icy cup,
The mother with her baby pup,
Rolls on her side for him to sup,
He feeds, then basks a little more,
Fluffy white fur; a sunshines store,
His wide expressive eyes reflect,
A world of wonder to inspect,
Cotton bud clouds, baby blue skys,
Suddenly a man with iceberg eyes,
Thud! A hakapik cracks his skull;
Another victim of the cull,
Trambling violently to cling to life,
His stomach torn open with a knife,
The vivid virgin white ... turns red,
In agony he screams till dead.
Words seem useless; silence worse,
All pleasure born of pain; perverse,
A carcass is slowly dragged away,
A rose did bloom... and die today,
Its name was innocence. ....
