Westward Ho/Poem/Bette Wolf Duncan

Westward Ho, Their Wagons Rolled

Stark and primitive, it loomed
in wild, primeval glory...
no state at all- this land they trod-
but just a territory.
They wondered in the wilderness,
assailable, alone....
a planet-breadth away
from all the world they'd ever known....
a land so rawboned... rugged....
that the states back East seemed tame.
Common sense said, "Turn around!
Go back from where y' came."

Then echoed back a sun bleached skull
that leered up from the range,
"This land's not meant for such as you...
too merciless and strange.
Just look around.....there's no place here
for fools the likes a' you.
This land'll break those hearts a'  yours
before your journey's through."
Then  from the orbits that were eyes,
there slithered out a snake.
It warned them, "Better men than you,
this land's been known t' break."

But then, beyond the coiling snake...
beyond the skulls that leered...
beyond the hoary scrags of sage...
a patch of green appeared.
A verdant stretch of meadow grass-
a tonic sip of green-
and Westward Ho...their spirits soared
and raised their sagging dream.
A waving stand of knee-high hope
on which their dream could graze.....
a vision there of things to come
on which their eyes could gaze.
Westward Ho...their wagons rolled
through terrors yet unseen,
driven by the promise of
that pretty patch of green.

© 2000, Bette Wolf Duncan
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.