The people of the North,
they say, “We remember.”
The Elders keep the past,
and record the present,
and pass it on.
The young will remember.
That has always been the way.
Then came others.
The Black Robes,
brought with them
a very, very dark cloud.
After the Black Robes came,
the people of the North said,
there was a lot of evil.
Snow, snow, snow,
snow everywhere.
Above the Arctic Circle,
it’s a white Christmas.
It always is.
The days are short.
In the tiny Arctic village,
there are a few Xmas lights,
even a virgin birth
in a manger.
There’s a log cabin church,
ringed with long icicles.
The faithful gather there on Sundays.
They remember the birth.