The Trail Where They Cried

The Trail Where They Cried Following the wooded trail; Fainted footprints I traced. Embedded in the dirt and shale; Of ancestors who were displaced. The wind blew cold and mournfully; As tears streamed from my eyes. I cursed Andrew Jackson most scornfully; Wishing the history I could revise. Shadows linger in the mist; Forever in solemn despair. Of an ancient race not allowed to exist; And I, their humble heir. The sadness on the Trail of Tears; Permeates and lingers still. Speaks volumes of cruelties austere; Man's law against Creator's will. Should we forget the place where they cried; And just get over the past. And once more trust a government that lied; We become our own downcast. Ask that not of me; To forget my ancestor's genocide. Or to dismiss this country's history; When the truths are still denied. When their stories are finally told; And privileged bias has decreased. When men no longer worship oil and gold; My peoples can rest in peace.