Sense Sonnet - Acher

Trail of Tears

The Choctaw Nation long and proud
Had lived in good upon the land.
But then, like an endless storm cloud,
The white man's presence did expand.
For a while, we tried to fight back,
To keep the hordes of whites away.
But on and on came their attack.
At last we knew we could not stay.
It is in winter we go west,
To where the whites tell us to go.
We get the treatment of oppressed.
Loss after loss is all we know.

The Choctaw Nation disappears
Along a staining Trail of Tears.