They journeyed–
sharing quarters with livestock
and worldly goods,
battered and buffeted
by wind and waves,
sailing through salt spray
under sun and shimmering stars,
the ship a speck in the vast sea-space
rocked them
sometimes gently, sometimes furiously,
rocked them into the unknown
This is a quadrille for dVerse. The prompt was “rock.”
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
I like your description of the ship rocking them into the unknown.
Thank you, Frank!
Excellent. Those poor immigrants. I think of my ancestors coming over by ship in the 1700s. What a trip that must have been! Small ship crammed full of people and animals, all the stuff they had to bring with them…boggles the mind.
Thank you! Yes, I often think about the people crammed into the ships, and women giving birth on the ships, too, and not really knowing where they were going.
This is a very cool tribute to immigrants. I can see my own ancestors in this.
Thank you very much!
I fear for their safety in those unknown waters ~ Love your share ~
Thank you, Grace!
We can only imagine the hardships of these journeys to the new world. We are blessed from their courage. Nice take on the prompt word. Thanks for joining in!
Thanks so much, Mish!
You’re definitely getting closer to the research :).
It’s not that research I have problem with
(remember Ph.D. in American history)–but researching family is much different. 🙂
LOL, no I didn’t forget that you are a researcher, Merril! Yes, much different–and far out of the “comfort zone” of American history. Another connection we have: my PhD in literature focused on American literature and one of my research areas was “history and theory.” Yup.
Yup! 🙂 Happy Thanksgiving, Luanne.
My younger daughter and I broke up bread for stuffing this after and watched the episode of the Gilmore Girls where Kirk plays Tevye in the grade school production of “Fiddler on the Roof.” 😉
Oh, that’s fun! Was your daughter ever in Fiddler on the Roof?
When she was in ninth grade, but just a small part. (Long story.) My older daughter was the stage manager, I think. The boy who played Tevye is very talented, and he’s now a professional opera singer.
Oh wow! And so cool about stage manager. Yeah, my daughter had a tiny part in 9th grade, too. She wanted Chava, but that went to an older girl and she got ensemble, but it conflicted with dance production and she was a choreographer, as well as an advanced dancer, so she ended up just doing the bottle dance. They did not cheat at that dance either–real bottles, no gimmicks :). I think her dad still has the Tshirt from that show.
🙂
They were brave. Nicely done, Merril.
Thank you, Ken.
This small poem as an epic quality. Like a William Blake woodcut it is larger than its frame
Thank you so much for such a wonderful comment, Derrick.
I saw the rocking of wagons moving westward too. Vivid images. (K)
Thank you, Kerfe. I thought of them in space, too, originally. 🙂
Our history. And now, the history of other immigrants trying to find safe, solid ground. Thank you – I’m grateful for your poem, for ALL of your poetry. xo
Awww—thank you, Pam.
Yes, I was thinking of all the present-day immigrants, too. Thank you for picking up on that, and for your very kind words! Happy Thanksgiving!
Rock on.
🙂
There is a famous set of books about the emigrants and settlers of Swedish emigrants I read as a kid…. you brought me there.
Thank you, Björn. I appreciate that.
I remember a Swedish movie with Liv Ulman called The Emigrants. Maybe it was based on these books?
Succinct, compassionate, and beautiful poem.
Thank you very much, Rose!
You captured much of the essence of their terrifying, long and yet, hopeful journey. This was to be unforgettable and possibly still imprinted on our DNA.
Thank you, Robin. I’m glad the poem resonated with you. Yes, it must have been traumatic–it still is, I imagine.
I imagine it continues to be traumatic in certain locations. It would be especially true for those who are crossing borders, leaving less because of “dreams” as immigrants did among my family, but more to do with running away from tyranny and tyrants. I feel sorry for those who do this around the world, Merril.
I do, too, Robin.
Serious and daunting paths for those who are in those locations.
I love that last line, Merril. I have never experienced Thanksgiving and it isn’t celebrated here. I think many Brits feel ashamed for what the settlers did to the native Americans. I wonder what it would be like if nobody had settled the American continent.
Thank you very much, Kim. Some Native Americans celebrate Thanksgiving as a day of mourning. I like to think of Thanksgiving as not the commemoration of the 1620 feast, but rather a day to celebrate things we are grateful for.
In the poem itself though, I was thinking about immigrants throughout time.