 
The Indian Trail Overseas military schools and housing areas have a poignancy to their
temporary existence. How do we still feel about that special place
in Tokyo, long ago bulldozed for the Olympics? Like some long-forgottten
Cherokee ancestors, forced to leave their lands .. and returning a generation
later to see what was left ..
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have cut was our hallowed land,
Where first we practiced at becoming a man. Here, we untamed ones roamed once so free, Testing their rules and moving boundaries, We stretched wide our wings in wild, youthful abandon, The flight was its all, no heed to what we'd land on.
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Nothing was left there, and
I looked all around,
I felt that I'd trod on some sacred ground. No ancestors are buried there, lest that be inferred, It feels much the same, though, whatever's interred. No marker, nor placard, nor sign tells the tale, Of we few who traversed this old Indian Trail.
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