Contact us at: whispernthunder1@gmail.comThe Sound of Flowers Dying
~Taina Amayi
"The bees were gone, and when they disappeared,
I knew that we ere next to go."
~Lozen's Child, Echoes of Winter
I observe things. I see things, and I study them.
I have always been that way, and called delusional
even when my conclusions were true. I have never
had many friends and I suspect that this is why. I
recently heard of the Casssandra Complex of Greek
mythology, and I suppose that this complex has
come to apply to me, and could be the end of any expression of thought that I may have about anything at all. Oh, I'm sorry. Do you wish to know what the Cassandra Complex is? In short, it is the ability to know the future, and not be believed, and even ostracized when telling others what the future holds. It is the crushing powerlessness to do anything about the horrors to come. No, I am not claiming any "special powers," or "abilities" to foretell the future. As I stated before, I observe and I study, researching causes and effects and watching bees disappearing and hearing the heartbreaking sound of flowers dying.
I was once a musician, and a composer of songs honoring all that is sacred. I was a producer of videos and a writer of poetry. I was happy once upon a time, but I can't remember ever being happy. I came to realize that neither my music or my words meant anything at all, my means of producing were destroyed, and no one mourned the losses but me. Watching destruction coming like a Tsunami, unable to stop the crushing waves, I watched helplessly as everything sacred to me was taken away. I could no longer pray, I could not sing, I could not write, I could not even cry, yet demands still came and I was forced to reach within the ruins of my once thriving life to give of what I no longer had.
I was a strong Apache woman. Could my Medicine be taken away like dried up bones in a wind storm? I discovered that yeah, it can be, and it was, and I now face the devastation alone.
Hello my Love. Do you remember me? I see what you do as you smile, yet something is missing. Years of sweet memories are hiding behind a wounded mind, and moments of horrible pain are blissfully hidden within a beautiful heart that still loves me. You ask me how I'm doing and I don't know what to say. I could never lie to you because you could always see my heart as no one else could, and hear its rhythm, now broken and out of sync. I still tell you that I am just fine, that everything is okay, and that I don't spend my sleepless nights holding the pillow that once held your head; crying silently so as not to awaken the ghosts that haunt me with your absence. I don't tell you how the bees are gone, and that all Living Beings are dying. You know my heart better than anyone, even better than I do, and I can't hide my brokenness from you. You worry about me but nothing can be done. I am alone, and the things that once made me whole have abandoned me. Life has been cruel. You were taken away from me, and I from you, when we most needed each other. People are cruel and here on my rez I am left cold, hungry, and for the first time in my life I am afraid. I am a woman alone and missing on the rez of my heart. I think that I am dying, but I can't be totally sure of my journey on this broken Red Road. I miss you...
Is the above tale true, or is it fiction? You decide, dear reader. Whichever it is, it is a snapshot of losses felt by the Indigenous peoples of Turtle Island for well over five-hundred years and counting. We will never be the same... ever. The descendants of those who came before do not understand us, and never will, because they were taught not to understand us, or even to care.
It is true that "history is written by the victors," even if the "history" told is false, or equally told with lies by omission, which are whole lies told in order to justify intended genocide.
It has been a long time since I first mounted my war pony to tell the truth - to expose the ugly tumor of myth told as historical fact, and manifested in American film and television productions such as The X Files film which presented Neanderthals in what was supposed to be "Northern Texas" in 35,000 B.C.E. (Before Common Era), blatantly ignoring historical evidence that shows that Indigenous peoples and cultures have inhabited this hemisphere for at least 60,000 years. The same held true for the popular Flintstones cartoon series of the 1960s, which essentially exterminated Indigenous people from what is called Ameriaca via a ridiculously premised cartoon for children. Should I even mention the American "education system," which served as the propaganda program for the United States government? From personal experience I can verify that schools do not teach, they indoctrinate. Imagine a young Apache/Arawak girl sitting in her chair hearing that "Columbus discovered America," which is the greatest myth ever to infect the minds of generations of children, and continues to do so to this very day in 2025 C.E. (Common Era).
Now before I am judged for being too harsh, please understand that I am harsh even with my own when it comes to telling historical truth, or truth in any context. Human nature is what it is, and with that nature comes the good, the bad, the pretty, the ugly, and the indifferent. Being human is a package deal, and in that package exist all the things that make us human. We are all capable of doing good, bad, and the list goes on. However, the one factor that makes a true human being is one missing in the very fabric of American society, and the cabal disguised as government, is the willingness to take responsibility for evils done, and making amends to heal wounds that never closed.
I had asked if the opening tales were true stories or fictional, and I still leave that up to the dear reader. However, the true questions are how much pain can someone endure before breaking into a million pieces or more? What happens when a person can't "catch a break" from the cruelties of a cruel societal system? What happens to a person whose heart is constantly broken in too many ways to comprehend or to count? I suppose that this writing expresses things known by me, whether it be in fact, or in my writer's imagination, but the answers to these questions I, again, leave up to you, dear reader, to answer, or to find the answer to. Thank you for reading.
https://youtu.be/z9UhzhL9xvg?si=uH9LHuDP8tQzqkiz