Let Us Not Forget That

My father's great-grandfather,
His people dying from famine and indifference,
Turned his young back on those rotting fields,
Into the dark, west, to an alien land.

Alone, poor, unskilled, and Irish.
  And yet he survived
    And prospered
      And multiplied.

My mother's great-grandmother,
Her people herded like animals from their rightful homes,
Slipped away from that tearful trail,
Into the woods, north, into the hills.

Alone, cold, hungry, and Cherokee.
  And yet she survived
    And prospered
      And multiplied.

Let us not forget
That we are all the products
Of the misfits, the castaways,
The desperate and the brave.

We are all the products
Of the misfits, the castaways,
The desperate and the brave.

Let us not forget that.