SS: MINE SUCKS.
I lived with the buffalo herds of the west,
I lived on the lands that my ancestors blessed,
I lived with the Cherokee elders and chiefs,
I lived by their solid and truthful beliefs,
Our people had lived here for so many years,
Full of their pride, holding battle-honed spears;
And yet through those times of famines and fears,
We never thought we’d travel a Trail of Tears.

And then out of nowhere, or so it would seem,
These people, these settlers, white-skinned and lean,
Walked on the lands that my people called home,
Leaving their children to grow here and roam;
These children, they grew both in size and in greed,
Full of their scorn and their meaningless creed;
They looked at our tribe, weathered and wise,
And let out their feelings of hate and despise.

White-skinned she, and red-skinned I,
But friends close as sisters, we saw eye-to-eye:
We lived on the lands that my ancestors tamed,
We lived on the lands that these settlers maimed,
And though we were different as close friends could be,
We knew that my people, the Cherokee,
Were the ones that had rights to this small patch of land,
But we put that aside and walked hand-in-hand.

We had our rights! They’d promised us these,
But their leader, their President, our lands hoped to seize.
He told us all of the soldiers he’d send
If to his tyranny we wouldn’t bend.
And my friend shook her fist at this whining old man,
“Let him say you cannot live on this land.
Let him say you will be taken away,
He cannot ignore what his own people say!”

But the people of my sister’s Puritan tribe
Listened to the President’s scornful jibe.
When my friend begged her father to let us live free,
He pulled my dear friend onto his knee.
“Listen, my girl, my beautiful daughter;
They’ll take you astray like a pig to the slaughter.
I give you a choice, and I will not deceive:
You live with us or go with them and leave.”

So we said our goodbyes, our heads turned to the side,
And we gave up our friendship, I gave up my pride.
We left the land that I’d lived my life on,
The skies that touched seas in the shadows of dawn,
The buffalo herds which we stabbed for our meat,
The hides of which we made into shoes for our feet.
But as I turned to see our lands the last time,
Resting a second after a steep climb:

All I saw was the blood and the shame
The land which the settlers now wrongfully claim.
I don’t see the white pines or green, springy earth;
I don’t see the tree under which I shared mirth
With the rest of my tribe, now dirty and dying,
All I can see is the President, lying,
Forcing my tribe off its well-polished lands,
Away from the green grass and into the sands.

And now as I look back, for the last time,
After this torture, the President’s crime,
I feel tears spring to my eyes,
Drawing memories to me like flies.
I don’t want to leave, I want to stay near!
And on the ground falls a single tear.
I turn away, turn my back on the past,
And wonder how long my tribe members will last.

I’m not a young one anymore, and I don’t say ‘what if.’
My tribe members need me as we climb up steep cliff,
As we travel trails soaked with tears and sweat,
Running away from the President’s threat.
I say goodbye to the places I knew,
In the moments I have free, which are far and few,
My people are dying, they’re sick, all my peers;
As we travel this Trail of Tears.

is mine