Westward Ho

(Blank Verse Sonnet) The wagons slice a trail across the plains in search for gold or land to claim and build abodes where independence rules supreme; my great-grandfather leads them west for gain all while his wife and sons work on the farm. The trails he carves become long rails of iron throughout a nation sworn by force of law – that each man’s peace now lies within his hands. Yet greed breeds theft, and swag digs ugly wounds across the land where freedom banners wave; while bondage of the poor and frail prevails and brother murders brother, flushed with rage. A government now sets the bar too high, as mothers, east to west, spill bitter tears. .