Poetry

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Two hundred years ago
Family trudged through the snow
With possessions on their backs,
Walking roads without tracks
With hemlock boughs for a bed
For to rest each weary head.
Eating wild game and leeks,
Crossing valleys and peaks,
Seeking a land that was free,
Hoping it held many a tree
To build a shelter for all
And anyone who chanced to call.

Sounds and smells of spring
As their axes started to sing,
Working fast to clear the lot
So as to grow food for the pot.
Resting in their faith in God
As they worked the sod.
Still long treks to miles away
To by some salt, food and hay,
Seeking a way to work with ease,
A new sound came on the breeze,
When a cart with wheels was heard
Bringing salt and hay for the herd.

Many have come and gone
but the knowledge was passed on
That we too should seek our places
And pass on our faith to young faces
In a God who never fails
And a Christ who took the nails --
To free all that we may be
One day in heaven there to see
Those stalwart souls again,
For faith in God is to gain.

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