Flying across this land, greeting the coming dawn,
Far below a network of highways,
Homes, rivers and byways,
Cars, trucks, and trains rolling on and on.
Far below a network of highways,
Homes, rivers and byways,
Cars, trucks, and trains rolling on and on.
People down there moving about, specks like ants fretting,
Purpose in each,
What? Out of reach,
Lives, like vines, strands sprouting and spreading.
Purpose in each,
What? Out of reach,
Lives, like vines, strands sprouting and spreading.
I think of my own people, homes left behind,
Covered wagons filled,
Treasures of life’s yield,
The oxen pull and the schooners the women walk beside.
Covered wagons filled,
Treasures of life’s yield,
The oxen pull and the schooners the women walk beside.
They count mile after mile, each day a new start,
The trail hard ahead,
To the journey no end,
Toward the promised land, Eden in their heart.
The trail hard ahead,
To the journey no end,
Toward the promised land, Eden in their heart.
Home on the trail, with laughs, tears and joy,
A cry and a sigh,
A woman has died,
Leaving life for a wailing pink baby boy.
A cry and a sigh,
A woman has died,
Leaving life for a wailing pink baby boy.
A wheel comes loose, rain pouring a torrent,
The men and the boys,
Thigh deep in the morass,
Dig the muck, lift the wagon, the wheel now bent.
The men and the boys,
Thigh deep in the morass,
Dig the muck, lift the wagon, the wheel now bent.
The sun rises hot, a glade by the stream,
A picnic and rest,
Prayers for the blest,
The night falls about them, starlight filled with dream.
Prayers for the blest,
The night falls about them, starlight filled with dream.
Now over the hill, mountains sighted ahead,
Ringed with white at the top,
His step a halting stop,
An old man falls, no more life in his tread.
Ringed with white at the top,
His step a halting stop,
An old man falls, no more life in his tread.
Mountains ascended, rocky steep sides descended,
Fertile fields abound,
New homes, crops in ground,
In each ancestor’s life’s book a new chapter appended.
Fertile fields abound,
New homes, crops in ground,
In each ancestor’s life’s book a new chapter appended.
So far from new homes, no roads, boats or post,
Is sister alive?
Did poppa survive?
Was the journey of hope and the promise of Eden a ghost?
Is sister alive?
Did poppa survive?
Was the journey of hope and the promise of Eden a ghost?
Flying across this land, lights twinkling in the dusk,
Far below a network of highways,
Homes, rivers and byways,
Cars, trucks and trains rolling on and on.
Far below a network of highways,
Homes, rivers and byways,
Cars, trucks and trains rolling on and on.
People down there moving about, specks like ants fretting,
Purpose in each,
What? Out of reach,
Lives, like vines, strands sprouting and spreading.
Purpose in each,
What? Out of reach,
Lives, like vines, strands sprouting and spreading.
Writers Envy 
Good storytelling. I was able to get an aerial view of the ancestors’ difficult journeys. I think I would have enjoyed earlier and simpler times, nonetheless. I did not grow up with extended family, not even grandparents. They existed, just not a regular part of my life. I like big families in movies and on Facebook though, especially when they get along.
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Thank you. I think this was the second post on my blog. I’m the family historian. I only knew my maternal grandmother and great grandmother (maiden name Strand), but they lived in Colorado so we didn’t see them more than a handful of times. My dad’s family lived 40 miles south of us in Bradenton where he grew up. I would never have known any of my aunts and uncles if we hadn’t driven down; they never drove up.
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I feel so special because you gave me an archive widget. (: Thank you.
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