The Last Crossing

All of us have heard at least something about the Mormon pioneers crossing the plains.  It was a long and treacherous journey.  Many didn't even make it the whole way.  Back in high school I had the opportunity to go on two pioneer reenactment's (commonly known as a Pioneer Trek or just Trek).  We wore the clothes, pulled hand carts, played the games, and read many of the experiences from the actual pioneers.  In short, it was a very fun and humbling experience.

A few weeks ago, two of my younger brothers were able to go on a Pioneer Trek of their own.  From what my mom and dad said in their emails, my brothers loved it!  One of the things they did on their trek was write a poem about their experience.  My mother (the stellar woman that she is) mailed me a copy of my brother Josh's poem.



When I read it, I was amazed!  Maybe it's because he is my brother and I'm a doting older sister, but it really is amazing.  So, here it is.

The Last Crossing

by Joshua Nestman

The sun is beating down with a vigorous zeal,

Attacking the hats that are protecting it's meal.

The sun's fiery breath is filled with hate,



My Bro's!  Joshua (left) Jordan (right)

Giving the saint's a taste of hell's iron-gate.

But when heat turns to cold and ice turns to snow,

The saints start to wonder how far they can go.

Before they collapse from the strength that they lack,

As snow drifts pile up as ice on their back.

An ice filled stream appears in our way,

I can't help but feel that death is at bay.

Waiting to claim us in his cold grasp,

"How can we do this?" to no one I ask.

But I straighten up and I stand tall,

I promise to keep going even if I fall.

I forge across the river leading the others,

Strangers at first but now we are brothers.

I make the bank as I look back pausing,

I see some members who can't make the crossing.

Back and forth I walk and wade,

Helping all those who are in need of aid.

My body is frozen, my hands are shaking,

I can't even feel my legs as they're quaking.

It's done; they're across, I sigh in relief.

I step on the bank and I collapse in a heap.

As I lay cold and dying in the snow-covered sand,

I feel a scarred palm take up my hand.

As my Savior pulls me to my feet,

He says "Life's a journey and yours is complete."

I hope this touches you as much as it touched me.  The more I reflect upon these words, the more I desire to give my all to the Savior.  I love my Savior.  One day, I want to have Him tell me: "Welcome home dear daughter.  You've served me well."

Thank you Joshua for the inspiration you have given me and hopefully many others.  Love you!