A Special Blend
with your words
Careful where you
put your feet
Those are the holy grounds of
my father's People
Why you look so surprised?
Sure it's an injunction burial ground
Them's most of my family buried
I am a cullud injun girl
so be careful where you step
be careful what you touch
Holy tools are all over the land
They are not for you to steal
My People will get ya
If you so much as move a rock
One step closer to me
You will fall
Stills a bunch of us
and we will kill you.
This ain't no ordinary niggrah's
You see how fast that arrow came to
I was you Mr White man,
I'd get back on my horse
and leave here fast
It's a might different place when it's dark.
Do not ever come back here again,it will be
the last thing you will do.
The soldier steadied his shaking knees,climbed
on his horse, and sped away
~ Crystal Hills
Apache Good Bye Girl
I have journeyed through countless wildernesses,
caressed by wind and sand.
I sought the comfort of my people,
and they turned me away.
With disparaging words they broke my spirit –
In silence I walked away.
Broken spirit –
The music died –
Like Sacred Stones buried beneath the Earth,
my spirit, too, was buried –
forgotten, but never forgetting.
Lies are loggers’ saws, cutting down Living Beings -
their voices silenced in violent death.
Betrayals are knives to the heart, devastating everything within.
I can hear the cries of dying Trees,
yet my own cries remain unheard.
My own, yes, my very own have become my enemies.
Without rhyme, reason, compassion, or knowledge,
they sagely know me without knowing me at all.
They have wounded me –
arrows striking me in the back as I walk away in silence.
Falling down, feeling the pain, I am alone.
There is no word for good bye in the languages of my people.
Until we meet again, so long, see you later, until the next time…
but my people always say good bye now –
the faces of their Ancestors forgotten.
Mean spirits, serpent tongues, they spit out the forbidden words,
Good bye, Apache girl, we don’t want you here.
In my own people I find no comfort.
I am a stranger, a pariah, yesterday’s trash to be remembered
as something to be forgotten.
What have I done wrong?
Why am I accused of things I have not done?
They cannot tell, for they don’t even know.
Dark whispers speak to them, and with darkened hearts they listen.
Oh, Great Spirit, my people have abandoned me.
I am now alone.
Should I be taken, who will care?
No one, for my spirit even now wanders in that place called
I can no longer say, “until we meet again.”
My spirit is broken – shattered against the stones against which I am thrown.
Spirit broken –
The music died –
I am… the Apache Good Bye girl…
‘Hidden Voices’ © 2018
~ Taina Amayi
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