America
packed up its wagon
To
head out on the trail toward California
For
gold.
The
Mormons moved west under the guidance of their prophet
For
God.
Adventurers
went out to explore
For
Glory.
The
three G’s that drove men’s souls and spirits for years.
Gold,
God, Glory.
Moving
them across the expanse of prairie.
Uncle Sam drew a
line across the continent.
“You can have
all this land over here” he said, “and we will take the rest.”
But then he
changed its mind.
“We’ll take this
from you as well.”
The land shrank
quickly
As the new
nation gobbled it up
For progress.
They pushed,
Breaking
treaties,
Causing tears,
Making new
treaties,
Breaking them,
Causing more
tears.
Blood from the
thousand nations
Ran down
mountains,
Through plains,
Mingling with
tears and sweat
From thousands
of miles of migration.
The white man
settled the nomads,
Straightened the
land with rails,
Fenced it in,
Claiming it as
their own.
Those that
didn’t adapt
Met their end
In war or
captivity.
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