"Icetrees" by David Noah, Winterville, Georgia |
Bob Ambrose and Susan Richardson
Athens, Georgia
April 23, 2011;
revised January 25, 2012
A remembrance and meditation
revised January 25, 2012
A remembrance and meditation
on Susan's cross-country trek with her friend Thomas
while attending a professional workshop
at Lake Louise, December 2007.
When ice encrusts your goggles
and
it's twenty five below,
when
paths are sealed in darkness
so
there’s no clear way to go,
then
comes a time to drop the mask
to
face the bitter wilderness
with
fading strength, untested faith
through
formless doubt to find a trace
the
faintest track to follow out.
Sunlit
paths descend in snow
through
Rocky Mountain wilderness
from
Tea House trail to valley floor
on
frozen shores of Lake Louise
where
distant lights in season shine
with
promised warmth against the night,
and
gliding there through majesty
we
fill the silent snowy way
with
joyful laughter, human song.
But
time goes by and treks grow long
gray
shadows close as ways wind on,
those
winding endless ways we
take
with dimming faith
and
lowered face.
We
press ahead
our
eyes cast
down
and
only then
the
narrow path
emerges
into openness
a
clearing wide in winter peace
we
lift our heads to gathering grace
and
pause in awe of open sky where holy
visions
crystallize as early evening stars
appear
with undreamed wonders pressing
near,
beyond all words but strangely
clear
when set in stillness, white on white
so
far from lodge at Lake Louise.
But winter trails dim well too fast
as
eventide
folds
into night
with
stars alone
providing
light
the
world goes stark as ways fall dark
and
beauty drains
from
mortal sight
our
silent prison
sealed
in white.
While
woods are lovely, dark and deep
when
viewed from lodge
or
well-groomed path,
sometime
in life
will
come a test
when
woods turn into wilderness
where
dark and deep
oppress
the soul
and
lovely turns
to
creeping cold,
when
minds hark back to life before
spent
safe beside
the
hearthstone fire
that
burns and brightens
even
now
in
warmth, the lodge at Lake Louise.
As
ice encrusts your goggles
it
seeps inside your soul
and
time compresses tightly
in
a frozen snowy hell,
its
icy heart, indifferent
to
your choices and their toll.
So
brave the cold,
embrace
the pain
blue
jewel of the night, and then
just
let it go
and
kneel down low
in
God’s own time you may well find
faint
traces in the snow to choose
and
follow on
in
willful trust
determined
hearts will find a way
led
by the arms of God to life
or
to the arms of God to lie,
it
matters not
in
wilderness
resolve
sustains despite your doubt:
you
take a step
then
take one more,
in
time to find the lights ahead
no
longer die with setting stars
but
guide the path for frozen hearts
toward
the lodge at Lake Louise.
A
steady light still shines afar
through
darkness into crippling doubt
sustaining
souls through wilderness
for
in its cold indifferent heart
will
fear transform to grateful dance
to
dawning life, a grant from God,
so
let your stillness show the grace
reflecting
hints of majesty
as
snow-white peaks seen in the face
and
placid depths of Lake Louise.
Years
hence I’ll hold this blessed trek
with
Thomas through the wilderness
in
doubt and fear and final peace
more
worthy than the warmest fire
by
spacious hearth of grandest lodge.
From
far away I’ll wander back
to
ponder pathways in the night
and
count myself the grateful lost
pursuing
traces etched in white,
and
reach that pathway’s end in time