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


Tate

© 2013 Tate Morgan
Written
September 30, 2013