Endangered voice on an indifferent sea
Turning its vast grey back: how would he sound
At the pole where so many had died already?

Under the ice fish screamed at newly drowned
Babies. Whales clicked their tongues and boomed
Disapproval. Creatures with teeth unbound

Their powers and terrifying voices loomed
Like buildings.  It seemed the world was against him,
That any child's voice as small as his was doomed

Because there at the arctic all chances are slim
And everything, even love, freezes and disappears
Or snaps in two as the long night draws in.

So she listened to the deep voiced-child. Her ears
Were muffed against the cold but there, and there!
She heard him and she leaned down with her spears

Poised over the water. Mothers, the air
Is dangerous at the north pole. The metaphor
That is your son is crying out. Beware.