Today a beautiful snowflake flew through the sky and fell on the land that I call home. I tell it that its artful unmatched design is a gift of its eternal history of earthly travel.
Your molecules cannot be burned as you change your shape to survive, only to change to a droplet, or as the flake before me. You are as old as the earth that you have traveled throughout time. Were you part of the Nile when Cleopatra rode that stream? Were you in Pearl Harbor when bombs hit that scene? Do you do tsunami when the winds blow you onto me? Were you a teardrop in Jackie’s eyes when John was taken from us in 1963?
If you could tell me the stories of what you have seen since the creation of earth, what could I learn from the days of your birth? The name of a toiler whose mouth you watered as he built the Great Wall ? Did you see die any Assyrians, Sudanese, Manchurians, a Jew or Palestinian as your witness to genocides?
I wish, as you settle at my home before you melt into the earth’s depths for a thousand years, that the world could hear your testimony. And this entire snowfall could share the tragedy and the joy that could be known for all humanity that needs your witness. Before it’s too late.
