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Patricia Wallace Poem
Once my people walked these valleys and mountain vale,we knew every twist and trail.
Over the great waters came the white mans sails.Once my children played just over
there.While my squaw cooked our food over a fire. Across the mountains the white man
come,took our lands with lies and gun.The walk was cold, dark and long. Everyone knew that
walk was wrong! The trail was frozen with bloody tears,it was far worse than they had
feared.Miles and miles were walked everyday."O" so many died along the way! "Sickness and
hunger followed close behind,the tracks of the wolves,not far behind.Ice on the river it
popped and snapped,Should it break,a horrible death trap! He was born during this plight,a
cold,dark frozen night. Forced from hearth,forced from home! " Across the frozen river
they had to rome!"He cleared the land with ox and bow."Strong and handsome, he did
grow."His noble brow, he could not hide,when ask his race?"White",he lied! "He fought the
war between the states. "For freedom must come early and never late! "Hunger and death,
they did endure."Only by denial could they insure. "Against the law to own a farm."An
Indian to own land!"That was the alarm! "Yet they managed to make it work,they raised a
family and didn't shirk."A few stole away, late at night,decided to try and be white.
"Alone I stand still proud and free!of my Indian blood genealogy! The years they fought
to be free! "Out of Kentucky and Tennessee". "For my blood is. "Choctaw and Cherokee"!
Patricia Wallace
Copyright © Patricia Wallace | Year Posted 2009
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