Wild West Wind

We were traveling roads out west

'cross the plains of the great divide

We'd been up into Canada

a country that’s both tall and wide

We drove across the Queens Highway

over the mountains one by one

To the North West Territories

in the land of the midnight sun

 

Where we came upon a mountain

that was cleaved in half at the top

At the bottom lay the result

for there the road came to a stop.

Where once had been a little town

now lay the boulders far and wide

An earthquake had torn it in half

and ripped off an entire side

 

At the base of the mountain lay

a plaque inscribed with all the names

Of those who had perished there

all the families who'd lost their claims

Each of them were drawn by riches

to the gold fields of the North West

There strong of heart, sought a new start

and were willing to brave the test

 

An old woman in the diner

where we stopped to marvel the scene

Set there telling us the story

as she managed to cook and clean

"Only one soul had made it out

and lived through that horrible day"

"You know" she said, “they went to bed

that same night that they passed away"

"The night before had seen a storm

that blew a gale across the bridge

They'd built with pride, to the far side

that led to the top of the ridge

There they had drilled and dug and fought

to reach the gold and silver vein

like the miners, Forty Niners

and their kin of the Spanish Maine"

 

"A child’s cry was the only sound

that could be heard that fateful morn"

But after that I'm sure she wished

that perhaps she'd never been born

The old woman’s face lined with pain

told how she'd lived through cold and fright

Recanted as if yesterday

for the folks she had lost that night 

  

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Author's Note

Around 1990 I was out in western Canada in the mountains near the north west territories when I came upon this missing town. Sometime between 1907 and 1910 a small town was lost to a earthquake. There I came face to face with history. This is an attempt to do justice to those whose warm hearts are buried there in the cold cold ground.

Reviews

[Frieda P]

Sad story within your poetry here Tate, everything that shines ain't gonna be golden, great read, and of course I loved the music too.

[Tate Morgan]

thank you Frieda

[Frieda P]

Welcome, when I saw the title, I thought you were going cowboy on us. ;-)

[Tate Morgan]

Oh I have a little cowboy in me

[TrimarcoRansome]

Loved the story, Tate. the rhyme just falls from the tongue when read. superb!

[Tate Morgan]

thank you Helen

[Eva Rosehill]

I loved this.. you certainly have done justice in preserving the memory for those who did perish, a beautiful poem, you captured those people well..

[Tate Morgan]

Thank you very much I am Tate nice to meet you.

[Eva Rosehill]

I'm Eva, the pleasure is all mine, I will be sure to read more of your work!