An Immigrant in Canada

She stands behind the glass,

Her towel in hand, so still,

Watching as the snowflakes fall

Like stars against the winter’s chill.

I watch her, where she pauses,

Still and contemplative, gazing out at the world.

What does she see in those snowflakes?

A blanket of white, a city of cold towers, white mountains?

Maybe she recalls a time

When life was harder still,

As a young girl working the fields,

To save her cottage, her only shield.

Does she remember her youth, working

Hard in the fields of a cruel landlord,

Striving for wheat grains to survive?

Or does she think of her family, left behind?

Or maybe she remembers her lover,

Left behind in those fields of toil,

Lost to the whims of a cruel landlord,

Leaving her heart heavy with sorrow.

Maybe she watches the lonely bluebird

In the snow that matches her life

As it flutters and dips, without a word

A picture of loneliness and strife.

Maybe she wonders if the bird knows

How it echoes her deepest fears

If it feels the weight of her sorrows

As it braves the bitter tear.

She cleans the tables, quiet and calm,

As I watch her, lost in thought,

Wondering what lies within her heart,

What memories she has brought.

As she stands there, lost in thought,

I can’t help but wonder what she sees,

In the snowflakes falling gently,

Against the cold glass surface.