OW (29-5-1945 / Hobart Tasmania)

Trail Of Tears Version 2


The Trail of Tears.
Cold winds howl down a trail of misery,
Freezing, penetrating, cutting into one’s very soul,
Many feet drag reluctantly, one after the other,
People stumble,
Hands fumble,
Bodies numb,
And death comes,
A shadow is cast over all,
As many fall,
The snow is blinding,
The people are binding,
Together for ever,
In this life and the next,
Tears flow down faces drawn,
Boots disintegrate,
As we migrate,
Clothes are tattered and torn,
Blankets are scarce,
Children are cold,
Their bodies we hold,
They shiver and succumb,
They slip into a sleep, the final sleep,
They now know peace,
Hunger and pain,
Staying alive is a strain,
The old are exhausted,
They do not complain,
Some can’t go on,
And sing the death song,
The Muskogee plead,
Their captors take no heed,
Their captors are deaf,
Also blind,
Their feelings numb,
Mile after torturous mile,
People drop,
The people die,
Bodies lay,
Bodies stay,
The snow drifts,
A blanket of pure white,
Covers those,
Who’ll never be discovered?
Never be recovered,
Never forgotten,
Culture and language,
Whites tried too eliminate,
No tolerance for our beliefs,
No respect for our Chiefs,
We are horded by liars and thieves,
To a place called Oklahoma,
Indian Territory,
Even that’s a lie,
They give and they take when ever,
What ever,
Where ever it is their pleasure.
My Vision My Dream,
Osceola Bird Man Waters.
version 2

by Osceola Waters

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