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Rated: E · Poetry · Western · #835061
Native American Poetry
Trail of Tears see me crying
Inside my heart slowly dying
So my soul is left by the wayside
Soon to be carried away by the river tide
Elk bone whistles no more blowing
Only our uncertain knowing
Silvery tears are left on the ground
With snow and our loved ones both falling down
And us with our hearts and hands and mouths now bound
And our babies crying a trumelent sound
And this will be our forgotten Last Stand
Walking barefoot through the White Man's Land
To a place that we do not know
Where nothing, not even grass will grow
How will we live? cried a baby on a breast
Living the old way is how we thrive best.

Eva Ladyhawk Wright

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