Tears Poem by Lone Dog

Relentless seas tore at the foot
Of Gaspe's rugged shore;
The massive heights that proudly held
The key to Canada's door.

Around the Gaspe to the south,
A mighty river gave
Its freshness to the heaving brine
In pure unending wave.

Just then, atop a ledge, appeared
A stalwart human form;
A strong and proud Algonkian brave;
A true Canadian born.

He stood in silence as he gazed
Upon the vast green land,
Reflecting on the wealth it brought
To him and all his band.

The boundless beauty of the land,
The forests, furs and fish,
The sparkling streams and inland seas
Were all that one could wish!

He pondered on the spirits' help
The elders often sought,
And how his people so revered
The land and all it wrought.

From western peaks to eastern sea,
This land belonged to him.
And still in silence there he stood
As light began to dim.

Then, sudden in the sunset's fire,
A canvas caught his sight.
A sail, and now a ship appeared
Then faded out of sight.

The Indian felt foreboding build
At this intrusion seen.
Somehow, he sensed that ill would come
To all the land had been.

And as he stared into the void,
A tear ran down his cheek;
A tear for changes that would make
His people's future bleak.

Jacques Cartier, from St. Malo town,
Had come from France this day,
To raise the fleur-de-lis and cross
On heights of Gaspe Bay.

Now, the land he loved exists no more.
The hardwood forests gone;
Replaced by highways, cities, towns;
Pollution hides the dawn.

The sparkling streams run brown with sludge,
The silence marred by horns.
And acid rain drips from the sky
On wet or smoggy morns.

The Indians, yes, have lost their land.
Confinement is their lot.
They're kept on reservations where
Self-pride is seldom sought.

Today, all Indians have a tear
Running down their cheeks.
A tear for all the wrongs we've done
Of which we hate to speak.