Wasteland

Across the icy wasteland, wind whistles
In low tones, tearing bits of warmth from
My weary walking soul. Softly but surely
I tread through frozen fields, trembling
With cold so cruel, a constant all my days
As I journey across the land. A lonely place,
This is, memories of merrier times my sweet
Comfort when the storm clouds crowd above.
Still, well worn memories lose their sharpness
And then I truly am alone, the crunch
Of crackling ice beneath my feet the
Only sound in this, a dark bleak world.
For so far, I traveled, but even the strongest
Soldier fails, after a time, and I stumbled,
Slipped, and suddenly I knew I was lost,
Limbs broken, day growing later and night
Creeping upon me; I was finished, a corpse
Growing colder, alone on the road in the dark.
I hadn’t imagined that someone would save me,
See me fall and fail, then give up all hope;
Yet in the darkness, lamp lifted high, he
Knelt beside me; “Dear one. I am here.”
As the wind whistled around us, he picked
Up my pitiful form and carried me across
The final stretch, to safety and warmth.
So it was there in that terrible darkness
That I met the most faithful friend.

Copyright © Karlin K. Jensen | Year Posted 2013

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