Mmm... the first two lines of "Cries of the Children" are beautiful. They evoke winter in all its softness and silence so completely; without even closing my eyes, I envision "the winter storms" - white flakes stirred with wind, clustering, showering - the shining steel of "a heroes blade" in their midst.

But my rhapsodizing upon such a narrow part of "Cries" does your poem no justice, so I'll stop now, xD

I'll have to read "Cries" several times over to really understand and appreciate (or at least try); right now, I can only extract bits and pieces, images, that I loved while reading.

Eh... and I have to go. Will return!