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MY CHEROKEE ROSE
Along a dusty well trod trail
that far off dreadful day
an unknown Cherokee woman
in sorrow and in child birth lay
her body wracked with pain
sweat pouring from her weary face
and soldiers riding by, forboding and unkind
shouting, 'hurry with it
you're taking up our time and space
underneath tall soong pines she lay
a ragged blanket was her bed
her pillow just a bit of hay
A tall and helpless Indian husband
wiped the dust from off her brow
and tried not to show the tears that trickled
from his eyes and down his sun burned face
and softly moaning once again
she thought
'I'ts over now'
Now restless weak and weary
the pains so hard and strong
but some ehrtr from the wind
it whispered, 'hold on, it won't be long '
The yellow flies flew over head
and bit her on her legs and feet
until she itched and bled
and yonder some, the children sat in silence
their faces showing fear and strain
but they were not too far away
to hear their mothers piteous cries of pain
An old Cherokee shaman chanted
prayers to the great one up above
to send this dying woman down
some comfot, peace and love
and to the grieving husband
he sadly shook his head
she is not good, she cannot last
the kind olf Indian said
and now the woman lying at death's door
looked up, and each face became a whirl
and with her husbands hand held tight
and with a small push, a shudder and a groan
she brought forth a bright eyed
black haired baby girl
then falling back
her eyes seemed to focus far away
and then it seemed
that through the mist
she saw her sisters play
but it could not be
for they had been dead now many a day
but upon hte hill
it seemed her mother stood
beckoning to her from through the woodss
and she thought she heard her mothers
soft voice say
'your work is done here now, you cannot stay"
then with one final look
into her husbands sad and loving eyes
and with a peaceful loving smile
she went home to live with God
and rest awhile
Her life on earth was done
and the death drums started then
their erie death dirge song
dum--dedum--dedum
About noon that day, they rode
along the dusty trail
"stop James, do you hear that'
I thought I heard a baby's wail
They listened there in silence
and again the sound was heard
"Why, that sounds just like a baby'
"I know it ain't no bird'
They rode aling and listened
and just around the bend
there was a bndle in the road
and the sound was heard again
He jumped down from the wagon
Look Jane, "Come here and see
theres a bsby in this bunch of rags
I wonder who it be
Gently now she took the child
and unwrapped her from the mess
It's Indian, all right she said
from that Trail of Tears, I guess
It was a tiny Indian maid
with sparkling eyes so mild
a tiny dimple in her chin
and a cute and toothless smile
"I think that we'll just keep you, Jane said
to that little baby girl
and we'll just take you home
snf as she touched the tiny hand
small fingers curled around her own
And now they looked in wonder
at the treasure that they they had found
and the baby gsve a little sigh
a small contented sound
and then they saw it
pinned to the only rag she wore
a tiny dirt smudged shirt
a note they found which said
'Please keep and raise my little girl,
her life's been short and filled with hurt
and from the tear blurred writing
then they read
"Please love and keep my child
her loving mother's dead
we are starving here upon the trail
and suffer many wrongs
they've taken from us now our happy homes
our proud and happy songs
They've taken now our manly pride
it's just some dirty thing
the women weep
the children starve
no more the warriors sing
and it's hard to hear her belly growl
because she'd naught to eat
please keep and raise my little one,
my child
and keeep her strong and sweet
and when she's old enough
please help her understand
about her proud and glorious heritage
and please raise her in her own home land
and let her see this wonderous place
tangled woods, tall trees and streams
home, where her ancestors lived in peace
oh such a precious thing
and tell her, her father loved her
now for the last time as I hold her little hand
and say that he would rather give her up
than let her die in some unknown
and foreign land'----
and at the end of the note:
I named her Easter
she was born on Easter Sunday
