TRAIL  OF TEARS !

Poems

Where is Heaven??...

IS HEAVEN IN THE YELLOW PAGES?

Mommy went to Heaven, but I need her here today,
My tummy hurts and I fell down, I need her right away.
Operator can you tell me how to find her in this book?
Is heaven in the yellow part, I don't know where to look.

I think my daddy needs her too, at night I hear him cry.
I hear him call her name sometimes, but I really don't know why.

Maybe if I call her, she will hurry home to me.
Is Heaven very far away, is it across the sea?

She's been gone a long, long time she needs to come home now!
I really need to reach her, but I simply don't know how.

Help me find the number please, is it listed under "Heaven"?
I can't read these big big words, I am only seven.

I'm sorry operator, I didn't mean to make you cry,
Is your tummy hurting too, or is there something in your eye?

If I call my church maybe they will know.
Mommy said when we need help that's where we should go.

I found the number to my church tacked up on the wall.
Thank you operator, I'll give them a call.

                                                                                                                                      April 30, 1999

THE ELDERS

A song of ANI-TSA'LAGI

Hawk of many colors,
soars high above, riding the wind.
Back and forth across " THE TRAIL OF TEARS"

Crying out for the spirit of ANI-TSA'LAGI,
from the love of the Creator,
hoping that peace will come soon,
for the end of "THE TRAIL OF TEARS" is near.

As the Hawk cries out
for the Elders, to the Young.
Dont let us be forgotten,
always keep the Love within thy heart
as the ANI-TSA'LAGI does for the creator.

For I the last of the Elders
pray to the Creator, to all creation.
As the Hawk cries out,
"Forgive, for the blood has been spilt across the TRAIL OF TEARS".

For the elders are fishing
from the river of life,
as the tears flow from the eyes
of the Hawk of many colors.

For the last treaty has been written
from the blood of the Creator.
As the sun rises from the East
and sets in the west.

                                                                                             Copyright © 1999                                                                                                                                    BLACK HAWK

Somebody's Mother

The Woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the Winter's day.
The street was wet with a recent snow
And the woman's feet were aged and slow.

She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone,  Uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.

Down the street, with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of " school let out,"
Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Haling the snow piled white and deep.

Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way.
Nor offered a helping hand to her ---
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir.

Least the carriage wheels of the horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At least came one of the merry troop,
The gayest laddie of all the group;
He paused beside her and whispered low,
"I'll help you cross, if you wish to go."

Her aged hand on his young arm
She placed, and so , without hurt or harm,
He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.

Then back to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.
She's someboby's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow,
And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
" If ever she's poor and old and gray,
When her own dear boy is far away."

And 'somebody's mother' bowed low her head
in her house that night, and the prayers she said
Was, "God be kind to the noble boy,
Who is somebody's son, and pride and joy!"

--- Mary Dow Brine ---            

Colors Of The Wind

You think you own whatever land you land on
The earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know ev'ry rock and tree and mountain
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name
You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew

How high does the sycamore grow?
If you cut it down then you'll never know
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon
For whether we are white or copper skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain
We need to paint with all the colors of the wind

Dream Catcher

Dream Catcher, Dream Catcher
Catch me A Dream.

Every kid should have A home,
no kid should be lost and have to roam
kids should have warm clothes and food to eat
not beg and scratch out a living on the street

Dream catcher, dream catcher,
catch me a dream

Help parents along the way
kids get confused and sometimes stray
teach kids and parents that to love - is to understand
parents, do not lose control reach out - ask for a helping hand

Dream Catcher, dream catcher
catch me a dream

The earth is not heaven - that is something we all know
think about it - there is not much choice on where to go
we can make the world a beautiful place
let us all work together protect the kids and keep them safe

dream catcher, dream catcher,
catch me a dream

I believe dreams can come true with the help of
you and you and you

                                            By Stephanie Ray 1997

Listen To The Wind

                                                                                                    By   B. S. Barber ©
                                                                                             April 28,2000

Memory

I am walking on a trail where tears fell like rain.
A trail of death and sorrow a trail of so much pain.
So many died along this trail that they call the Trail Of Tears.
They thought that I had died back then but I still live after all these years.
I see myself running now I am trying to get free.
I am running from the soldiers at the place they call the knee.
The soldiers tried to kill me so that no one else would see.
The things they did that day at the place called wounded knee.
But I am still alive a witness don't you see.
A witness to the Trail Of Tears and a place called wounded knee.
As long as some remember and these events they can describe.
I will keep on living for I am part of every tribe.
As long as there are those to tell someone else of me.
I will always be alive for I am a MEMORY.

                                                                                     Written by Terry L. Lane
                                                                                        For my g.g. grandfather Lane
                                                                                          "Of the Choctaw tribe"

Trail of tears Trail of lies

Feet   torn and bleeding
blood tracks back across the snow.
A Proud and Noble People
   torn from home and family
      pushed, ever forward down the trail.

Young women Tears,
 frozen on their cheeks
  Suckle, infants to their empty breasts.
Young men struggle with their silent rage. 
As Elders fall behind and left.
   Death songs, fill the air.

Children's bellies rumbling with hunger.
But no weapons, or time, for the hunt.
Thin, scratchy army blankets replace,
 soft thick robes. 
      Ever onward pushing down the trail.

A Hundred empty, broken promises.
Thousands dying in their wake.
In a land where all are equal
      Lies the Cherokee Trail of Tears 

                                         By Renie Bradwell
                                        Submitted 29 October 2003

This page I am going to leave open for my

Friends that may want to submit a poem

or story that they would Like to have put up here.

They can be any poem as long as it is not

in bad taste.

If interested Please submit them to

poems@shadowwolf.org

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