So we'll no more go a fishing <br />only father proud son <br />quiet strength of huddled waiting <br />sharing enough reason. <br /> <br />Through the needs of strength and caring <br />ribbed rose catch gasp in ice ballet <br />to cease our bellies yearning <br />as reindeer jump in relays. <br /> <br />And walrus hide and ivory sled sob <br />when ice flow thins to rupture <br />when leviathan moves near under <br />and unknowing our small lives rob. <br /> <br />And thrown lance unfolds whale fat pearls <br />then smeared on faces deep bond and cold home <br />and whale bone pots of oil roam <br />when women join in death’s twirl. <br /> <br />We'll no more go a ice hole fishing <br />dressed in bear fur hide <br />behind laughing huskies racing <br />as pup seals glide on neap tide. <br /> <br />For the Autumn ice flow thickens <br />And a boys eyes worship dad less <br />And clotted venous warmth still quickens <br />And migratory birds dream of the South’s nests. <br /> <br />And ice saw teeth break and blunt <br />on the dirt and dead flesh frozen. <br />And on the youthful promises broken <br />the Northern winter’s sun sunk. <br /> <br />We'll no more go a ice hole fishing <br />only father proud son. <br />Laughing others go ice skating <br />ashamed now I was one. <br />And polar warming kills traditions <br />as my father’s fading vision. <br /> <br />(This poem relates to Inuit traditonal whaling and fishing. The author does not sapport modern industrial whaling.)<br /><br />Philip Housiaux<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/so-we-ll-no-more-go-a-fishing-or-roving/
