The pain is felt
As she, the preeminent archeologist knelt
Before the porch
And the holder of the torch
Of a land, once beautiful
Protected by the dutiful
Vibrant cultures which would fall with a thud
A price paid with disease and blood
From this would rise a new culture
The ancient morsels scavenged by this vulture
Manifest destiny was the rule of the land
Smothered and choked by a cold hand
Created by terror, torture and fears
Remaining in place for hundreds of years
A promise of liberty and justice, but not for all
The reason for this culture's eventual fall
This was not the story her digs appeared to tell
For liberty was the name of that cracked bell
Hymn's proclaiming the land of the free
And a constitution that begins with "We..."
As she gazed towards the sky
She could not fathom why
What on earth made this lady cry?
"Give me your tired, your poor"
Welcoming all upon her shore
This was the message upon her door
Gazing upon her once hopeful eyes
She soon began to realize
Perhaps, they were not all knowing and wise
And for too long believed their own lies
It was this realization
Of this ancient nation
Which helped her see
The tears shed by she
This lady...
Liberty
(C) Shawn White Eagle