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Samuel's Song
| Open Poetry #4 |
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Samuel's Song |
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Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores 
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Samuel's Song ~Marge Tindal~ 1999 Cold the winter wind did blow. Colder still the night. Wrapped in blankets oh, so thin ... giving bare warmth to their flight. Samuel's father died in the stockade where the Cherokee were herded like cattle. It wasn't Samuel's fight ... it wasn't even his battle. A mother wraps her nine year old, and holds him to her soul. She imparted the warmth of her body ... but by morning her body was cold. He was too young to understand, when taken from her arms. "Mother, mother", he cries, He does not understand the harm. Buried in a shallow grave along the trail they were forced to walk. He left the place where they had laid, and no one wondered why he didn't talk. Taken were his father and mother in the cruel march to the west ... he would recall the story later, as only he could do best. Is it no wonder the tears still flow today? What was taken from Samuel Cloud can't be given back or forgotten. I know, I know ... you were not there. The events were not of your making. But tell me please if you can ... what was gained by the taking? Land ... land, that's what it was about. It makes me so darned angry. It makes me want to shout. But to shout would do no good, I could holler not once, but twice. It wouldn't do Samuel Cloud any good ... he buried his mother and father ... I would guess he paid the price. The land was taken and should be given back ... it's as simple as that. The ancestors of Samuel Cloud have a right to the land that cost them much more than the price of an acre. Many moons passed and he did not forget with the passing of the moons ... he returns in his memory and marks the place and gives this promise to her. I will tell the story of your passing, of the way you held me tight. I will tell so others know how you left that cold, cold night. The story will be handed down, for generations to come. Samuel Cloud gave his father and mother, to the spirit of the setting sun. <~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~> ------------------ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ noles1@totcon.com |
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| © Copyright 1999 Marge Tindal - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Elizabeth
Moderator
Member Ascendant
since 1999-06-07
Posts 6871Minnesota |
I couldn't ever answer the questions people will have about something so senseless as this, or give reparation for the prices paid, although I wish I could. All we can do, I guess, is remember the past so as not to repeat it. Your poem was touching, Marge, and you told it well. Very sad. |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Roses Thorns - Welcome to Passions. Thank you for the comments. Being of Cherokee Indian heritage, this message of a piece of history burns in my mind. Many do not even know the past ... so the spirits bring the stories to me and I share them in poetic frame to enlighten others. Peace and love ~Marge~ ------------------ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ noles1@totcon.com |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
Excellent, Marge. We can't fully realize the depth of suffering caused so senselessly for such a base reason as greed. Sad beyond our comprehension. ------------------ Denise |
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Elizabeth
Moderator
Member Ascendant
since 1999-06-07
Posts 6871Minnesota |
I applaud, Marge. You told this tale well. ------------------ Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail- And give her to the god of storms, The lightning and the gale! -Oliver Wendell Holmes |
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Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
Wow, my friend, wow. This is fantastic. An epic of a poem and the last line just gave me chills. Give yourself several well deserved pats on the back. As to the topic - the injustices done to many peoples over land are so numerous it hurts to think about it. K |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Denise - You touch me with your comments. It should be beyond our comprehension ... sadly it is not so for the ancestors of the American Indians who perished on the Trail of Tears. As much as we detest it ... we comprehend it, sadly. I'm so glad you read this one. Elizabeth - Thank you, my friend. The story of Samuel Cloud is a true Cherokee tale. His great grandson maintains the vigil of seeing that Samuel Cloud's name is spoken with honor. Severn - I share with you the hurt. Believe me, I share the pain. Thank you, my friend. ------------------ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ noles1@totcon.com |
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