Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Two poems about our pioneer trek

Here are two poems written by wonderful young women about our trek. 

Click here to see more pictures of our multi-family trek. 

Who is pulling the handcart? by Megan

The pioneers of old,
Put their faith in God,
They left the land they knew,
To travel out abroad.

Uncertain of their future,
They pulled their handcarts all,
Whenever they got stuck or trapped,
Then to their knees they'd fall.

With pleading eyes they'd turn,
As they prayed within their hearts,
Asking the question,
Who is pulling the handcart?

Tears would come as they realized,
Angelic help was with them,
It was help from our God above,
That He would prove 'here I am'

And as I walked beside my friends,
And the people that I love,
Reenacting history,
With help from up above.

I witnessed and I felt,
A small part of their pain,
For in times of need and struggle,
And in the mist of clouds and rain.

I would turn around to see,
Asking within my heart,
With searching, moist eyes,
Who is pulling the hand cart?

I would see both kinds of angels,
In the faces of my friends,
Or I would not see anything at all,
Knowing Christ would stay there to the end.

As I go throughout my life,
With trials and hard times,
I often fall down in grief,
With tears filling up my eyes,

I wonder if this hurt,
Will ever disappear,
And when will help come?
In a week or in a year?

Then I feel my burdens lightened,
And crying, withing my heart,
Once again I ask the question,
Who is pulling the handcart?

A Trek Poem by Cassia

Heavy handcarts,
Dusty trails,
Dirty feet,
Babies wail.

Feeling lonely,
Like a fail.
How can I say
All is well?

Remembrance fills
My mind of those
Gone before
They who chose.

They chose to be
Faithful, strong
The pioneers
Praised God in song.

No right have I
To feel too small
Or complain
Or whine at all.

Feelings of doubt
And loneliness
Were replaced
With happiness.

With God as strength
We cannot fail.
With gratitude
The joys prevail.

To be a leader
And pioneer
We must have love
Instead of fear.

My small trek
Was just a taste
Of all their work
And time and haste.

As I think 
Of present day
I see us all
Going our ways.

We all have paths
Though different,
The treasures are

We are saved 
For latter days,
But our real trek
Starts today.

1 comment:

Kristin said...

Our youth are returning from trek today, and I was looking for a poem to share with them - these are really wonderful. Thanks so much and thanks to your young women poets. <3