She sleeps alone on the cold ground. No fire to warm her body. She dreams the dreams of one exiled from her home and facing an uncertain future.
  She had been awakened in the the night and been driven from her home. Her daughter in her arms, she started walking with a bayonet to her back. No husband to comfort her and tell her that it would be ok. He at first refused to leave. He had tried to fight them. He was killed in front of her eyes while her daughters screams filled her ears. The soldiers didn’t see it the way she did, but she knew what it was. It had been murder, plain and simple.
  She had walked for months. Sometimes carrying her daughter, sometimes the little girl walked. When her daughters shoes had finally fallen apart, she carried her. Sometimes the others would help, but they had problems the same as her.  There were no replacement shoes to be found. With the food supply quickly draining, the other supplies had already long worn out. She saw so much indifference from the soldiers. She found it queer that their supplies didn’t seem to disappear.
  The little girl had fallen  violently ill one day. With no real medical attention to be heard of, it was only a matter of time before she went to be with her Grandfathers. She had been holding her daughter last night as she took her final breath.
  So many tears had been shed during this time. So many lives had been ruined.
  She now awakes in the cold morning mist to hear a voice, “Awake my daughter. Look to the ground where so many tears have fallen. This is my gift to you and your relations.”
  Upon the ground was a beautiful rose.  White petals, representing the purity of all mothers tears. Yellow in the center, for the precious metals that had been stolen from their land. And seven leaves adorning each stem, representing the seven clans that were all going through the same loss of life and freedom.
  Looking skyward to the hazy morning sky she cried, “Thank you Father. But there are many more than the seven who suffer the same fate, and they are all my relations. This gift shall be for all. Not just my clans. Please, let this be a gift to them as well.”
  Letting her tears run down her beautiful face and fall upon the ground, she gains her feet, and continues to walk.

(The flower I describe is taken from The Legend of the Cherokee Rose. It’s also referred to as Rosa Laevigata. I hope you enjoy. 🙂   )

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