The little girl was displaced
Regarded as trash, a scorned race
The Indian Removal Act
An ugly governmental fact
Their ancestral homeland
The government banned
West of the Mississippi River, they went
To the designated area now sent
Exposure, disease, and starvation along the route
Many more they would simply shoot.
Many died on the trail of tears
A thousand-mile March anguish and fears
Barefoot, no shoes or socks
Huddled together at Mantle Rock
Waiting for the ferry to cross
Many died. To the government, no loss.
Somehow, she survived the horror of it all
A lifetime of anguish she recalls
The death March called the Trail of tears
Still to be remembered through the years
Man’s ugly inhumanity to man
That Was never what our creator planned.
Cool Dawn
