Ode to Hyena “Tripod” & your Kin; may you & your Kin rest in peace, & Bless your & your Kin’s precious Hyena Spirits when you go…

August 21, 2016  Ode to Hyena “Tripod” and your Kin; may you and your Kin rest in peace, and Bless your and your Kin’s precious Hyena Spirits when you go

(it’s just another of my rants…

Don’t worry, children,
The angry, howling winds you hear,
Have nothing to do with you.
Pay it no never mind, and
Go back to sleep.

Thank You, Divinity! they don’t think and feel all these words like me. Then again, how many thoughts do they share?

This has been bothering me ever since I saw the footage of Tripod in likely the last battle of her life. Regardless of what the battle was about, of who was right or who was wrong in their Clan, I remember her and others like her, broken and bleeding, with pleading, confused eyes.

They (the un-nameable here) lamely look on, uselessly said to her, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”  And every time they say ‘we don’t interfere,’ or ‘we can’t interfere,’ I have to turn away. The selective hypocrisy of it all makes me sick with heartbreak and rage.

So I weep some portion of the thousand of years of angry tears in my inherited heart and write.  I wish I could cut out the sentimental of my mind, then I wouldn’t know, wouldn’t care, wouldn’t hurt.

They just don’t know;  they choose not to understand.  And now that I have at so long last found some kind of group with which to at least partially belong, I am deeply frightened to speak the words of my heart, for they will cast me out, again.

I am born of tears.  Why not put these tears to some good use?  But good use requires courage to face when they once again ostracize me for what they don’t want to hear.  So once again, the same as in my childhood, from the safety of obscurity and vagueness, I write.

No, I’m safe here.  They won’t hear me as I rage into the night.  I don’t need or want them to hear me. Those that cannot be named will only hurt me again for my thoughts and passions, for the grains of sour truth in my words they don’t want to hear.  But because of their selective hearing, my passion is made to burn all the harder.

I wish… I wish from the depths of my bitter, angry, weeping heart, they could hear them, these precious Animal Kin!

They don’t, they won’t hear them.  And so, above my fears of being cast away, I must scream on their behalf with my writing.  Even if and when some of my words are wrong or don’t fit exactly, I must write!  They, these Animal Kin, are the ones, the essence of their beings that somehow, from thousands of miles away, drives my passion, this round of bitter tears, writing my rages into the night.

No, I don’t need to be heard.  They are the ones that need to be heard.

And if they, the/our precious Animal Kin don’t feel any of these words of this passion, then I would be grateful and relieved. I’d be glad if what I write here is all wrong. Yet I have an ill, sinking feeling that somewhere in all this torrent of words, there just might be some bits of what they think and feel.

Hmm.

Cap’n Toni…)

~~

You come here with your noisy, moving boxes,
Your smells cast far ahead of you.
You’re looking for me.
For us.

You think because I don’t run away
From your noisy boxes,
That I don’t feel , that I don’t know.
You hope I don’t know, don’t you?
Counting on me ignoring you,
And you don’t know,
I don’t ignore you at all.
None of us ignore you.

I’ve gotten used to you being there.
But you are cold-hearted.
I wish you weren’t here.
Not like this.

How much you don’t know!
I know everything in my environment,
I count on everything in my space.
We All do.

And you, you come here into my space
And think you are not a part of here,
But you are.
You won’t see that.
You create in your head a distance
That’s make-believe.
We are not as dumb
As you hope and try to believe.

I wish you weren’t here
If you’re not really going to be here.

Can’t you stop those of your kind
From snaring us?
Shooting us?
Tieing us up, muzzling our face,
Riding us, forcing us to be
Prisoners, hopeless beasts
Of the burden that is many of your kind?
Can’t you figure out how to share
Some of the meat you raise with us?
Can’t you do better?
Can’t you help?

So this way of your creation is better.
Here where you don’t bring the cattle
Or the buildings and death roads.
In some ways it is better,
Far better.
But in some ways, not.

You and your noisy, moving boxes
And the on and on noises coming from your mouths.
I hear you.
My children hear you.
We All hear you.

You bring this noisy box and you
Into my, into our space,
And then deny us our right to put to use
All that is here in my space, in our space.

How can you claim to be so smart
And be so dumb?!

Do you know why you have the brain that you do,
That can recall history, analyze and plan for the future?
Do you know why?
You’re supposed to use that brain
Not just for yourselves,
But for All of us, too.
Remember, it’s All of us that helped All of you become you.
You owe us, not the other way around.

All the land, trees and rocks I know,
We All know.
All the breezes and smells,
Everything in this space
I use.
We All use.
It’s part of how we live, how we survive.

Don’t be here if you’re not going to be here
For us, too.

You come here every day,
Chasing after me, after us,
Gawking at me, at us.
When we mate.
When we birth.
When we hunt.
When we play.
When we fight.
When we die.
Mumbling and laughing
When we’re talking,
When we’re struggling.
Expressing all the while
That you admire, you respect, you love.

Yes, I have heard you.
Yes, I have felt you.
We All have.
Choose not to believe
That we don’t hear you,
Don’t feel you,
Don’t know you.
But know why you make that choice.

No, it’s not for you to decide
Who of us is right or wrong,
Or force us to suffocate
Or go insane
Surviving in the boxes of
Your ever-changing judgements.

But for when I am
Bleeding and broken,
I look at you pleadingly,
Needing you,
You turn away.
And I don’t understand.
Why did you come here,
If you are not going to be here?

Why do you turn away?
Why?

When we need you,
You turn away.

Well fine.
If you’re not here with us,
Then take your noisy boxes
And your noisy mouths away
And don’t come back.

And we won’t be here for you either,
Dealing with your noise and smells,
Letting you gawk at us,
If all you’ll ever choose to be is useless to us.

It’s simple.
Don’t be here if you’re not going to be here.
Don’t just stare and gawk and be useless

When we need you.

You could be better.
You could be useful,
In the here and now,
When I need you,
When we need you.

Let us use those noisy boxes
When we need to.
Let us climb on to those boxes
When we need to rest.
We won’t bite you.
Weak as you are,
Of course you’re afraid.
But must you also be so stupid?!

Can’t you hear me?!
Can’t you see me?!
I’m right here in front of you!
Can’t you feel me begging you?!
I need you!

Let me make it simple
For your stupid minds.

When I need that box,
That noisy box of yours,
That comes here every day,
Then I need that noisy box now,
To lay down on
And
Just
Peacefully
Rest or
Die.

But, no.
You deny.

For all your kind takes,
The land,
The water,
The food,
The space,
All Our space!
All the quiet that
Has been ours,
That we need
To hunt, to survive.
We work around you
As you trample the days,
The nights,
The air.

For all your kind takes,
You deny me,
You deny us All.

You have a right to survive and live.
So do I.  So do we All.

You say we are harsh in our ways.
You are no different.

Maybe you finally are willing to know us,
Instead of shooting or slashing us to pieces.
And that’s a good thing.

But as I hobble away from your denial,
To find somewhere to die,
Within some of my last thoughts,
I will remember you,
All the times you came into my space,
And in the moments when I needed you,
You gave me nothing in return.

When are you going to be with us?