The Children Of The Midnight Sun

Where, sun rises, to, never sink
And sinks, to never, rise again
The castaways, to the, Arctic brink
Farm, spring of hope, from, winter of pain!

“Raw-meat eaters; Sartors of snowshoes”
Condemned to, ethnic, inconsequence
With huskies, chase who, seals, caribous, …
Have, no love lost, for the race, of pretense!

Between, cradle and grave, in the sanctum, of snow
A life, spent in, squirrelling, ration
These, ‘unworldly’ souls, never learned, to grow
Lives, worth, more than, ratiocination
Weather on, thin ice, without nation!

From igloo, sea, to the, trading post
Sums, race, of, ethnic dimension
Far, yet, better off, from “Culture’s Coast”
The Children, Of, The Midnight Sun!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra

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