A Way Out of Wilderness

"Icetrees" by David Noah, Winterville, Georgia

Bob Ambrose and Susan Richardson
Athens, Georgia

April 23, 2011; 
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

forevermore the grateful found.

"Snow on Field" by David Noah, Winterville, Georgia