Shoved from Georgia homes like old dogs over
to Tennessee, now the death march begins.
Our brave men, women, small children cover
a thousand miles by foot, horses, wagons
and boats. Soldiers eat meat as we forage
for fruit and nuts on the Mississippi’s
and Arkansas’s shores. Invisible cage
of a false treaty offers no release
from our fate. Our four routes see our slow crawl
past Memphis, Little Rock, Fayetteville and
Springfield; stumble our way to Tahlequah
and Fort Smith. Four thousand within our band
will die. White roses will grow wild beside
Nunna daul Tsuny, The Trail Where They Cried.
Roger Armbrust
October 16, 2007
