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Marge Tindal

of

Clermont, FL, US

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Roll Call

by

Marge Tindal

A lonely rank of fighting men
lay dead upon the shore.
They came, they saw, they conquered,
but they encountered more.

A far and distant battle
in a bleak and desolate land,
He fights the battle for you,
a gun clutched in his hand.

A lonely rank of fighting men
lay dead upon the hill.
They don't know their heroes
and I guess they never will.

When the final trumpet's sounded
it will deafen every ear,
the repetitious answer

+ + + not here

+ + + not here.

The Cherokee Has Spoken ...

by

Marge Tindal

I stand and gaze over land my forefathers trod.
They walked with spirits I have known.
Moccasin prints in the grass below my feet.
I walk with the vision of their gods.

>From the North I feel the cold, cold wind,
And from the East the rain...
I know the setting of the Westerly sun,
And the land of the South calls my name.

I do not need to see them,
Only to believe they are there
I am compelled to seek those spirits
And to surely hear their cries.
This is the land the Cherokee walked...
This is the land where I'll die.

And in my passing I,too,will leave
Stories for those to come.
I'll tell the tale of the Cherokee...
On the setting of my sun.

The tears have fallen,
The deeds were done.
I cannot change the legends of time.
When the freshwater pools are salted with tears
I'll know that this is where the Cherokee died.

Into the final longhouse
I will enter with pride.
For where the Cherokee walked the trails...
I will surely reside.

And those who follow these paths
Will know the truth that I say,
I am one proud Cherokee
Well past my dying day.

The Cherokee Has Spoken

by

Marge Tindal

I stand and gaze over land my forefathers claimed
They walked with the spirits I have trod
Moccasin prints in the grass beneath my feet
I walk with the vision of their gods

From the North I feel the cold, cold wind
And from the East the rain
I know the setting of the Westerly sun
And the land of the South calls my name

I do not need to see them
Only to believe they are there
I am compelled to seek those spirits
And to surely hear their cries
This is the land the Cherokee walked
This is the land where I'll die

And in my passing I, too, will leave
Stories for those to come
I'll tell the tale of the Cherokee
On the setting of my sun

The tears have fallen
The deeds were done
I cannot change the legends of time
When the freshwater pools are salted with tears
I'll know that this is where the Cherokee died

Into the final longhouse
I will enter with pride
For where the Cherokee walked the trail
I will surely reside

Those who follow these paths
Will know the truth that I say
I am one proud Cherokee
Well past my dying day

Cherokee Rose

by

Marge Tindal

She goes by the name
of Cherokee Rose.
A symbol of suffering
wherever she grows.

A flower so pretty,
in all of her glory shown.
A reminder of the tears shed
where she's grown.

The white of the flower
signifies the mothers tears.
On The Trail where they cried
while giving in to fears.

The gold of the center
to mark the land
taken from the Cherokee
and passed to another's hand.

Seven petals to form the flower,
for the seven Cherokee clans,
forced to walk The Trail
and to leave their land.

They call her Cherokee Rose.
A legend in the making.
The symbol of hope
on the walk they were taking.

Along the Trail Of Tears
you will see
The Cherokee Rose
in all her glory.

Something so pretty
to represent,
a tale so sad,
the misery long spent.

Cherokee Rose still grows
along The Trail Of Tears,
to remind us of the hope
they had through those years.

Cherokee Rose
with all your beauty retained,
you stand as a symbol
of what we will regain.

Cherokee Rose,
the symbol of peace.
Long may you flourish
until the pain does ease.

The pain of my people may ease ...
but will never cease.

Legends Run Deep

by

Marge Tindal

Deep in the heart of this Cherokee,
burn the legends of time.
Written in the history books
I bring forth the stories in rhyme.

A peaceful nation upon the land
content to roam and be free ...
no threat to the power of any race,
just free to be.

I did not write the legends.
I did not see them fall.
I did read the history books,
the stories of horror recalled.

A quiet nation of people
herded across the vast land.
Herded across like cattle,
their possessions taken from their hand.

The Cherokee was not
the only nation so treated.
All American Indians were
badly mistreated.

I fight for recovery
for all of them.
I stand tall that they may take heed,
Until we stand united ...
we all suffer from the greed.

Whatever your tribe,
your heritage wear with pride.
Join with me fellow brothers.
We will not go and hide.

We are proud.
We stand tall.
We will stand united
and claim for us all.

American Native Indians
count your blessings and then
pick up the mighty legends
and let the stories begin.

I Am The Blood Left Standing

by

Marge Tindal

I hear the voice of the Cherokee
crying out in the night.
I hear the voice of the lone wolf answer.
Is this also my plight?

On the horizon of many moons,
I see the legends and hear them speak.
I cry the tears of the Cherokee,
they run freely down my cheek.

You cannot take back
what you have lost
or what has been taken from you.
You can only ask the spirits
to somehow see you through.

For it is written in Cherokee blood
spilled upon the land.
I am the blood left standing.
I hold the future in my hand.

I will not crawl or grovel
meekly this time.
But I will not be denied
that which is mine.

My forefather's left the spirits
to guide me to this place,
perhaps to prove to you
I am also part of this human race.

So look me in the eye,
meet my gaze forthright.
I am declaring my heritage,
my birth and my right.

'Finder's keepers'.
'Loser's weepers'.
I don't subscribe to this rhyme.
Return to me what you took.
Return what is rightfully mine.

I will not speak with tongue that is forked.
I know what I must do.
You do not 'give' me anything ...
I have earned my due.

Don't stand on your throne of empowerment
and claim how generous you've been.
The spirit guardian of the history books
know where you have sinned.

Unless you have the blood
of the Cherokee coursing through your veins,
do not pass judgement on me,
do not with cursed accusations speak my name.

I am the love that lay in the hearts
of all Cherokee who walked the trail.
I am the love of the Cherokee
when I hear their spirits wail.

Take what you will, but remember,
I am protected like you.
And all the spirits of the Cherokee
speak with your God too.

God of the earth.
God of the sky.
God of the sun and the rain.
All the God's of the Cherokee
know my name.

I have summoned the spirits
to take mercy on your soul.
The spirits have spoken,
the story is told.