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
many 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.

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