handcart wheels

Photo by Naomi Jensen

Wooden wheels cut

through broken ground,

carve snowy trails;

all Zion bound.

A child’s cry

a mother’s sight

as hunger grows

no food, she knows.

Weary steps

mark frosted plains

cross white-topped mounts

in cold-drenched rains.

A shallow grave

in lifeless sleep

lies a tiny babe

as parents weep.

Numbed feet trod

on frozen sod.

Cold tear-streaked cheeks

white snowflakes meet.

Handcarts pulled

by weary throng

while angels push

in silent song.

Their faith endures

though trials test.

The courageous pioneer

my life has blessed.