Journey Through A Southern Snow

The road shone white with the dusting of new snow.

A Journey had begun and dreams danced with each falling flake.

Yet it was, and still is a journey into the realm of the unknown.

It seemed like only hours before the pretty snow began to fade away.

Spring was already upon us blossoming with the promise of new life.

Yet the doctors words still cried in a soft eerie silence in my ear.

“ You have cancer son, but you have nothing to fear; we caught it early and when we're through you will live to see and rejoice in another day.”

Now the spring flowers have closed their eyes for they have seen the end of their short season.

The summer sun and the smell of fresh mown grass; the laughter of children at play has come like the wind and gone and is now done.

The crisp; sweet cool fall nights have begun slowly to arrive…

The Fall smells are in the air…teasing dulled senses.

The journey which began in the falling snow still leaves me with the question…"Will I survive?"

Each morning I drive the same road over and over and over again.

There is no more snow; the flowers have withered and died.

Treatment after treatment…a journey in discomfort has arrived.

The room at the cancer center is full when at last I get there.

I see the same drawn faces of both men and women with no hair.

The nurses smile as they position me in place.

And as the machine hovers around me…in my mind I sing Amazing Grace.

Green florescent lights dance across the ceiling of the darkened room.

The machine hums, it clicks and shoots out more lights of lime green.

Then this session is over as I get dressed and head for home only to have to work all night.

As I drive back home, my mind shifts back to a better day, but I still see the drawn faces with eyes filled with pain.

Thus what began as a journey through a rare Southern snow still leaves me with the question…it still haunts me each day as I Journey into the unknown.

Yes…oh yes I will survive, but only by the Grace of a loving God.

But what of the others that I see each day that carry so much pain?

Will they see this coming Winter’s snow? Will they chase the Spring? Will they once again laugh and Sing?

J. Allen Wilson © 9/15/2011