Native American Literature

The Trail of Tears
By Brian Childers ©1998
http://users.ap.net/~chenae/natpoem.html

I look to the long road behind
My heart is heavy with my people’s sorrow
Tears of grief I weep - for all that we have lost
As we march ever farther from the land of our birth
On the Trail of Tears

Mile after mile and day after day
Our people are fewer with each rising sun
Disease and starvation they take their terrible toll
And though we suffer still we march on…
On the Trail of Tears

I watch my beloved weaken and fall
Upon the road like so many before…
With tears in my eyes I hold my wife to my breast
And in my arms she breathes her last…
On the Trail of Tears

Mile after mile and day after day
We march to a land promised us for all time
But I know that I can no longer go on
I know that is a land that I shall never see…
On the Trail of Tears

As my body - it falls to embrace the earth
My spirit - it soars to greet the sky
With my dying breath am I finally set free
To begin the very long journey towards home
On the Trail of Tears


Reflection:
Due to the oppression of the Indians by the white man I thought this poem showed how the native people truly suffered as a result of the cruelty. This poem is about the Trail of Tears, which is one of the greatest tragedies in the Native American history. The Trail of Tears is a path in which federal troops marched thousand of men, women, and children across 850 miles to move them to reservations. The poem written by on the travelers depicts the aliment the tribes suffer, which include sickness, death, and loss of famiy. I sympathize with the Indians because due to the white man's greed they were forced to suffer tremendously all because the whites wanted the land they lived on to increase their wealth.

Diary:

16 June 1838

Dear Diary,
Today was our greatest loss yet. As we travel the beaten trails to our new land my people fall to their knees and never stand again. I haven't had a good meal in weeks. Mother saves her rations to give to us, her children, but her face is becoming shallow. I'm afraid she might be the next to fall. Two nights before my little brother passed away in the night. Some claim it a blessing that he shall not have to suffer and can instead live in his real homeland with Great Spirit. Out of the 700 brothers from my tribe we are now only left with 450. The white men do not care. They give us ratty blankets and dirty food yet they guard us while wearing the finest furs and glutonously fill their stomachs. We do not even have time to give our people proper burial we must leave them where they are or else we shall be beaten. What a shame it is that the white men claim America to be free yet we are walking our death sentence.