I hear the cries at moonlight, my people of long ago,

Torn away from their birthplace, marched into the unknown.Tired and hungry and dying, not knowing if they will survive,

My proud honorable family, my Cherokee tribe.



From paradise they were taken, to a land both barren and dry,

How can you sit and wonder what makes this Cherokee cry?



I weep for the death of my people, betrayed by many lies,

Who walked the death march to nowhere, on the terible trail

Where they cried.



Tears frozen on faces with heartache, bodies crushed with pain,

No hope left for the future and all for white men's gain.



Gone was their beautiful valley, tall mountains covered with smoke,

They walked with heavy burdens, held tight by winte man's yoke.



Their suffering is not forgotten, for you can see it fall from my eye

And in the shadow of the eagle, above a mournful Cherokee sky.



MARTHA MOONGAZER BEARD

DEC 27TH 2004