In my time, I have seen the way things would look,
Spreading the pages between a fairy tale book.
Once upon a time, a cliché long time before,
A heart-wrenching cry as I stand before the cold, cold door.
My bones shake. Raging winds across the ice, terror 'neath my skin.
"I can't," I cried, "Oh God, please bring this to an end."
A voiced that thundered; echoing the icy landscape from above,
"My child, my precious child, the world must have love."
"Will not be so easy, for I spared not many and a second chance I will give,
Choose the right path my daughter, choose so others may live.
Inside that door may well be the knowledge that you are after,
Honor, peace, lots of love and a joyous, carefree laughter."
Anything must be better than this vast wasteland, barren and cold,
Perhaps warmth lay inside, perhaps maybe a child to hold.
Sometimes the isolation bordered on madness and despair,
Civilization destroyed just two years destruction everywhere.
And the fierceness of my heartbeat thundered within,
Quivering hands around the doorknob, the beginning or end?
Indecision held fast, I could not release its strong hold,
Struggling mightily to once again gain control.
The ice began to crack I could feel frozen water began to rise,
"Someone help, please help me," but the winds drowned my cries.
"Oh my child, where has your faith in me gone?"
"Always I'm near, you've never been alone."
A calm peace settled, I knew the task that lie ahead,
My mind filled with sunshine, my soul no longer dead.
The knob turned in my hand and much to my surprise,
A world within a world, rivers of gold and bright sunny skies.
Men, women, and children, that survived gathered there,
All had amazing stories they wanted to share.
But all had one thing in common that helped them survive,
Their faith in God had kept them alive.
© Cynthia Clark