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The Oregon Trail
Leaving behind the city grime
and angry crowded streets of crime.
The chimneys belching smoke and ash
clinging to the window’s sash.
Filling wagons with prized possessions,
facing our westward journey, like hessians.
“Westward Ho” was the call of the day;
we began our journey without delay.
A caravan of hopeful dreams
driving cattle herds in teams,
facing the harshness of rough terrain
wind, sand storms, and pouring rain.
The journey hard ~ without remorse,
losing lives throughout our course.
Crossing rivers and narrow mountain passes,
where rocky paths where thick with brush and grasses.
Fighting Indians and thieves we managed to survive
through cholera and wounds ~ the lucky stayed alive.
We buried souls in shallow graves ~ as we travelled on our way,
marking stones and crude crosses, we knelt down to pray.
To lessen our burden we made concessions
left behind ~ our family possessions
to arrive where the mountains meet the sky
and nights illuminated with stars up high,
where fertile valleys wave and roll
filling our dreams, filling our souls.
The Oregon Trail brought us here,
building a life, in a new frontier.
Copyright ©
Paulette Calasibetta
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