PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the hush of the morning,  

When the sun breaks through the haze,  

I hear the whispers of the ancients,  

Caught in sorrowful praise.  

They walked the paths of their fathers,  

With their spirits bold and free,  

But the shadows of the colonizers  

Brought them to their knees.  

With the weight of heavy burdens,  

And the ache of longing hearts,  

They were driven from their homeland,  

Torn apart, ripped from their parts.  

Through the rivers, over mountains,  

On a trail that brought them pain,  

Every step a haunting memory,  

In the sorrow, in the rain.  

Oh, the trail of tears they followed,  

With the hopes that turned to dust,  

In the eyes of every mother,  

In the dreams of every trust.  

They carried all their stories,  

In the silence of their plight,  

As the world around them crumbled,  

In the fading of the light.  

But the strength of their ancestors,  

Still echoes in the night,  

In the songs of gentle breezes,  

In the stars that shine so bright.  

Though the scars run deep and heavy,  

And the land bears witness still,  

Their spirit walks beside us,  

In the valleys, on the hill.  

So I stand here as a witness,  

To the pain that shaped this land,  

Remembering the stories  

Of the ones who took a stand.  

When the natives followed their trail,  

Through the darkness and despair,  

Their legacy lives on,  

In the heart of those who care.  

Rolando Matias