Santuary in the Snow

A scribbling I did for a writing class awhile back.




Sanctuary in the Snow


There’s nothing like a snow tunnel on a blizzard windy day.

Above the snow, above that thin sheet of gleaming ice that sheathes the ground in all directions, the world is a riot of chaotic white, a frozen hell on earth fit only for the gnashing of teeth and slow destruction in it’s frozen lake of fire.

The wind a churning vortex of sand like ice and freezing gusts that that strips the skin from your face and seems to slowly sap you of life itself.

But in that tunnel, carved from the very heart of the storm that is seeking your complete and utter destruction.

Is heaven, sanctuary, a final sacred respite for the weary soul.

A small dark frozen hole, that in that instant seems brighter and warmer then the purest summer day.

It truly is beyond description.

When you crawl, spent and broken, out of the raging wind and roaring snow into that place of perfect peace, into that small simple state of serenity.

This must be the difference between heaven and hell, not a conquering of the elements, but a surrendering to the shelter.

An accepting that we cannot win but we can be saved.