Pioneer women were a rare breed---- brave, dedicated, good wives and mothers.
Eons ago when rivers flowed clear and pure as a-----virgin's dream,
The first pioneers pushed through the dense forest to drink from beave dammed streams.
Times were hard and cruel as these brave people gave up more strength, security and an easy family life,
As they traveled into the unknown with their few possessions in crudely built wooden wagons, pulled by oxen, through the muddy insect infested forest---some had to wonder-----if it was worth their strife.
They would stop before dark to review the rugged daily miles they had traveled,
The men would short orders to their sons to water and feed the livestock and the women would do their chores then, start the cookpots--no time for nerves to become unraveled
Romance did not travel with them in the sense of stolen glances, sweet words or brief kisses---during the day,
It only appeared around the cookpots or campfires--but it was so brief the warm. loving feelings did not stay.
Prearranged marriages became the popular mode, with our brave ancestors, on their journey to a new environment,
Where wedding dresses, bridesmaids and honeymoon were not---the daily requirements.
Most brides were chosen for their strong backs--for hard work would be theirs to endure,
Show of any love for them became a nightly function------which happened fast and unsatisfied for the new wives---no romance to accrue.
The men when sated would roll-over to sleep and dream of strong sons to be born from the best stud--a man,
To help with plowing, planting and harvesting the promise land---he would always need the extra hand.
Their wagons driven closely together for protection, more than friendship, for the frequent raids from the Indians proved deadly,
After the dead were buried---mostly the men---the wives and daughters were abandoned to drive the wagons which became a medley.
Childbirth on the journey became dangerous, painful and unmedicated
A pioneer woman's fate depended on the mid-wife who were medically dedicated.
Labor could last for days, the other wagons moved on----leaving the woman in labor and the mid-wife all alone, and forlorn,
Maybe a few concerned husbands stayed behind but mostly they were unconcerned until the baby was born.
It was rare that a pioneer woman felt the warmth of her husband's arms,
Wrapped around her as if she was cherished and not one of his charms.
The pioneer woman worked as hard as her husband outside, and then her chores inside---she was thought of as a second-class citizen to be seen but not heard,
It was their fate to be silent, not to voice an opinion---not a single word.
A female child was a mothers' responsibility to rear,
A male child is a fathers to hold dear.
A daughter's only value to a father was to use her as leverage for a prosper marriage.
Her father hoped she would be beautiful enough to ride in a richly drawn carriage.
Now isn't it time to praise the brave women of the past,
They plowed and planted the fields and then, cooked all the meals so their families did not fast.
May God bless them all and may a Crown of Rubies adorn their heads,
When Judgement Day removes them from their earthly beds.
This content reflects the personal opinions of the author. It is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and should not be substituted for impartial fact or advice in legal, political, or personal matters.
© 2022 Barbara Purvis Hunter