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The Lost People of a Peaceful Place
I sit quietly under the trees, staring at my barrier of leaves.
They whisper against each other, telling me the stories
of a long-forgotten past. Of a world many generations ago,
that housed a very different people.
A people close to Nature.
A people that was kicked out of their beautiful home
to be moved along the Trail of Tears like cattle.
To be put through the suffereing no man should dream of inflicting.
They left without a trace.
Staring at these trees, one would never guess that this place
used to be the home of quiet, peaceful people.
One would never guess how happy these people could be
without mandatory luxories that they never imagined.
poem
by
Zoe Guillory
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