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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1900468-Faced-By-Winter
by 13lue
Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1900468
Story of a man, who is mountain climbing and caught by the wrath of winter storms.
I walked unknowingly
As the cold wind kept shaking my very bones
I bundled up, and soon was taken for a ride
In this torrent of winter, with so little supply

The materials I had were short and simple
Enough to make a bed, and a fire to cook on,
But little did I know about what was to come,
and how I was to survive left me all from numb

A gust of wind, and a snowstorm at that
Was no help to me, for I lost everything I had
To walk in the dark, but my breath was visible
was all but comforting, for I was invisible

No one in sight for miles around
This forsaken land up in the clouds
My legs had begun to ache and wane
As it soon became hard to breathe, for I knew I was in pain

In a brief moment I suddenly remembered
The flare gun I had, that was in my back jacket pocket
I shot it into the sky, with the hope someone would notice
I was stranded way up in the mountains, freezing and hopeless

After a couple hours, I knew it was the end
I had gone days with so much walking, I felt numb all over
My vision was fading, and I was about to collapse
When suddenly a light shown from above, as I began to relapse.

I woke up in a hospital a good hundred miles from where I was
Where a man had been sitting right next to my bed
startled from my noise, he had bursted into tears
For he saw that I was alive, and there was nothing to fear

He said your a lucky man my friend, another storm was coming
We sighted a light in the sky, and quickly hurried
To the sight of you unconscious, laying face down in the snow
Before long we noticed it was just moments ago

So here you are my friend, alive and fed
But I am afraid your mountain climbing days are done and over
You acquired damage on both your hands and feet
From the frostbite of nature, a horrible defeat

Taken in by his words, I understood where I was
I was in hell by my thoughts if nothing else
For a day without doing what I love to do best
Is like stabbing me over and over upon my chest

Later I was let go, and put on my way
With my hands covered in black, to remind me of my pain
Stuck at my home, writing without hinder
I told my story about the time I had been faced by winter

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