Amanda Trail Poem “Smooth White Stones”

(Post by Joanne Kittel)

View the Future’s 20-year effort to preserve our cultural history has touched many people. The following is a poem written by Paul Cervenka, a part-time resident for many years.  He relates Amanda’s story, the Amanda Trail and how the city of Yachats has faced the reality of the events that happened. Paul  created a symbol of something that could bring to mind not only the story of the injustices of the past, but also the way that a community has come together to keep the memory of those injustices alive so they can work towards a more just future

Smooth White Stone

 

Pause and hear the tale of Amanda trail

One that’s sure to haunt your thoughts 

And a cold, dark, damp US prison camp

At the site now called Yachats 

Little has been said of where this trail led

Today, it’s a lovely place

But too many died in a genocide

One that time will not erase

 

I can understand if you love this land 

You may wish we did not speak

Of unhappy times and collective crimes

But Yachats is not unique 

There is a pattern much like slash and burn 

With humans instead of brush

Eradication by this young nation

Of cultures they sought to crush 

 

It started in May, eighty miles away 

Near where the Coos meets the sea

It was in year four of the Civil War

When Lincoln’s Union Army 

Removed from this place members of the race 

That lived in this country first

Herding like cattle, a racist battle 

To sate unquenchable thirst

 

This story preserved by a man who served

In the Union infantry 

As prisoners slept, a journal he kept 

In this, “The Land of the Free”

While Grant battled Lee to end slavery 

There was both glory and shame

While humans near here were hunted like deer

The army was one and the same

 

In his words we find Amanda was blind

No doubt this helped seal her fate

He thought she was old but the truth be told 

Her daughter was only eight 

Julia’s own father didn’t even bother 

To save poor Amanda’s life

To allow her to stay he just had to say

That Amanda was his wife 

 

You should also know she was not solo

There were thirty one others

Some were old and frail on this trail to jail

Some young children with mothers 

Back during those times they called some acts crimes

Like leaving the reservation 

Nothing there to eat, back home they’d retreat

It was self preservation 

 

Long days dragged on and all hope was gone 

As soldiers shouted and cursed 

No food or supplies but they were fed lies

Still, the last day was the worst

And to get through there, you must walk with care

Those with sight even dreaded

Troops in boots and socks over sharp black rocks

But Amanda’s feet were shredded 

 

As Amanda bled, the sad souls were led

Through the great gate of the fort

They did not have rights like those of the whites

None would get their day in court 

Scant shelter was crude and again, no food

Survival was not the goal

And so starvation was compensation 

For those whose lands that they stole

 

And this prison cost three hundred lives lost

Amanda was likely one

And mile after mile, keep this in mind while 

Hiking this trail you’ve begun 

But still try to greet all those that you meet

For we can’t hate away hate 

We can offset it with its opposite

For that, it’s never too late

 

But it is naive to ever believe

These are wrongs we can delete 

That we could atone, or that smooth white stone

Could mend dear Amanda’s feet

There’s also the fact this wasn’t our act

We did not aid or abet

Black rocks sliced her soles also etched our souls 

White stones help us never forget 

 

That camp is long gone, and some have moved on

From those un-right-able wrongs 

But here we reflect, and show our respect 

With Peace Hikes, poems and songs

Some day you’ll be out walking about 

With family, friends or alone 

You’ll recall this trail and Amanda’s tale

When you see a smooth white stone

Paul Cervenka 2023