A Westward Journey

In a land you may know, but still long ago,
When paths were marked by trees,
There set out a brave few who only knew
Of an opportunity they wished to seize.
From the lands they were in, and from lingering kin,
They felt it was time to depart.
So when ripe turned the weather, they packed up together,
A great trek west to start.

With wagons homemade embarked this brigade,
Though on foot they traveled the most.
For room had to be sought for supplies that were brought
On the trail where trekked this host.
Man, woman, and child, whether stern or mild,
Had to keep fed at many a whiles.
For the journey they tread, which ever westward led,
Was a journey over two thousand miles.

Often sickness struck, for such was their luck,
And by sickness their numbers dwindled.
But even this could not sway their feet from the way,
Nor smother their hearts that were kindled.
And though the strangers they met were not always a threat,
There were some who meant them harm.
And they sometimes had scraps with the native chaps,
Which was cause for heavy alarm.

But still on they pressed, moving north and west,
A troupe of pioneers.
With rifles in hand they trod across the land,
Dealing bravely with all of their fears.
So thus, by and by, over earth, under sky,
They reached a land wholly new but hale.
And, settling into their own, they were ever afterwards known
As the pioneers of the Oregon Trial.

This poem was written for the Surviving the Oregon Trail contest.