Towards The Light Poem by Mary Champion

The wind wails,
biting through the bones of the traveller.

The snow circles him
suffocating him in a flurry of fear,
blinding him.

When he set out he had, had a sense of direction,
but it has abandoned him.
There is only the night and the wind and the snow.
They overwhelm his awareness,
obliterating all thoughts of purpose or intent.

How many miles?
Or was it kilometres?
How can a man be this cold and not be dead?

Then, through the whirling whiteness,
he sees a light -
a golden light -
warming,
welcoming.

Hope renewed, he walks towards it,
his sense of purpose restored.
His goal is the golden light -
a few dozen steps and it embraces him,
taking away all the discomfort and the doubt.

He is weightless now.

The golden light permeates his soul
until he and the light are one.

Gently, gently,
it carries him home.