In the eighteen-thirties,
the removal act was passed.
From congress came silence: not one apology.
For them, death lingers.

Four thousand died walking,
buried in mass graves.
This was just the beginning for these great warriors.
One-quarter of all Native Americans: dead.
For them, death lingers.

Taken from their godly land,
and food source, family, and friends.
Leading warriors now followed a path of miserable death,
filled with a shortage of religion and general nourishment.
The Native American life: terminated.
For them, death lingers.

Leaving behind beloved families,
children raised by elders.
Forced to find jobs to pay government taxes,
they leave the land designated for them.
Their life: a symbol of inevitable death.
For them, death lingers.

Warriors require adequate protection,
but it doesn’t exist on the reservations.
Diseases and malnutrition festers.
The flu,  a common cold: an unforeseen kill switch.
For them, death lingers.

My ancestors did this,
and tried to cover it up. 
These warrior’s lives were so beautiful and now: starvation.
For them, death prevails.