February 09, 2008

- Grandmother speaks and it's time to listen -

Hero's


She sat quietly in the corner sewing,not one man even acknowledged her
presence,captured so long ago she could barely remember another way of
living.
Carried here by pony,loaded just as another piece of trading material
learning to speak their words by listening,and yet never speaking to them.
From the Tsalagi women who came with their warriors bringing skins for
barter,she learned to speak with them as well,from far away her People were.
The rolling grass lands where sacred buffalo dwell,she did not know her
own age,perhaps twelve,cooking, cleaning, dumping slops,feeding the white mans
stock.
These were her duties of the day,nights for her were only pain,forced
into the blankets of the highest bidder,just lay there nothing from her was
needed.
How many mornings did she wake,lips and eyes swollen shut,beatings and
rapes beyond the counting,a life that was no longer worth the living.
For She Finds Birds,it was the way she wanted,to not be seen as human
the men who came spoke openly before her,in truth they looked right through
her.
One day, she kept dreaming,she would be free to return to her People,a
thousand ways she thought of killing these men who did not think her human.
Perhaps now her day drew near,these things they spoke of the Tsalagi
should hear,the destruction of a village,more slaughter of innocents was
planned.
The laughter low and mean,the schemes carefully laid,oh,the money they
would be making on the bounty of the scalps they would be taking,none cared
about the ages.
A sudden slap to her head,brought her back to her duties,blood running
from her lip,sealed the fate of this man she hated,this night she would
escape and take the message.
To the Tsalagi camp she crept,knowing capture would mean her death
whispered words to a woman who was praying by the water earned her,food
horse,and freedom.
This one time there was a different ending,as the whites came creeping
with the dawning,their plans of bloody murder,were turned back upon them
with a vengeance.
Seventeen dead and only one was red,caught in a trap of their own making
the white men learned what came of drinking for courage,as they died there
on lands of their claiming.
Quickly the small trading party,took the message and made their own
plans,fires made and stuffed blankets,while they in the forest waited for
their betrayers.
Moving swiftly they returned to warn the village,knowing there would be
retribution, by the "Great White Fathers" who said his red children must
learn to behave better.
It would not be seen as defending,but cold murder of defenseless traders
by the strange "laws" of these new peoples,the Tsalagi had no right to bring
such slaughter.
And the young girl who brought warning,none knew but hoped she had
returned to her own People,prayers of grateful thanks rose to protect her
long ride home.
Soon they came,those blue leg soldiers,bringing the death that by now
was expected,a few had moved from the village,southward to safety,but many
were too old for all these changes.
They died there on their homelands by the thousands,standing proud and
singing prayers,we will not forget these Hero's of our People,warriors all
who died with honor!

granny

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