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.
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