she has flashing eyes

She has Flashing Eyes
(by Johnny Rustywire)

Light snow fell on the cedars and there was peace and quiet in the
stillness. A Navajo father, but he could have been anyoone's father rode on horseback with his daughter on a journey together from sunset to dawn to find a place beyond Fluted Rock. It is winter and they are bundled up and travelling in such a way is simple, you have to go from here to there and the path is clear to see.


If it was so with life it would be simple to go about and not find the
pitfalls that somehow make their way to cause one to stumble.


He and his daughter go on to meet the dawn, they are bundled as they go
East to Tsinijinii, one of the Sacred Mountains. He rides a little
behind her and in riding their silence speaks about family, love and
caring as they pick their path to early morning light. She is no longer
just a shild but has grown and now can find her own way.


At dawn some things make themselves clear and at times she wants to go
her own way. So you follow behind and let her pick the path to go. When
she was a child she was wrapped in a blanket made by her nali, (aunt) and was placed in cradle board and watched him as he went about his chores. He would sing her songs, and among them was a Riding Song, an old Navajo tune that spoke about getting up early before the sun and getting ready to head out and the song lifted itself in the movement of the horses and he would sing it as he worked.


He stopped for a minute and remembered this girl with flashing eyes, made so as she had five brothers and learned to stand up for herself and so could handle all of them. I suppose many fathers think about how a small child stood there next to them, he remembered her small hand in his.


He took her to high bluffs and on many walks talking about family, the
stories of life and how certain things happen. He lifted her to tall red rocks and watched her play and she grew little by little. There were times when he would carry her and wipe her tears from her face. She is a child still but at times her eyes flash at the sound of my voice.


Let me go my own way, so you step back and without saying a word let her go, hoping that choices made are the right ones.

Atsa Biyazh, is the time of eagles being born after big snows and in that there is a time for little eagles. In watching them on the next way way up high it is hard to see a bird take flight, to one day decide it is time to make their own way. You see them fall time and time again, and dusting themselves off slowly crawl back up and try again. So it is with her.


Riding behind behind her, she wants to go on alone, not listening to
anything that is said, just flashing eyes meet me and so we go on. You
want the best and sometimes you have to go with what comes. It is the way life teaches you and so you learn little by little. I sometimes think that life is not so much for good times but to deal with the hardships that come along.


So it goes with daughters and flashing eyes. Be careful and take your ime, watch where you step. I see that she steps out and goes out on her own. Along the way I think she should go another but then this path is new to both of us. We go on.


She stands near my height, and her hair is long in the way of her grandmothers. She has a strong will and when angry has flashing eyes, so it goes sometimes.


I find that she has grown up and is no longer a child, she is a woman child, still my little girl but then turning with flashing eyes and speaking about her own way of doing things. We ride our horses to early
morning light, so I follow her as she goes on ahead.


The girl with flashing eyes rides far out ahead and little by little as
we cross the mountain of life she rides further ahead until I can only see a figure narrow in the distance, a mere spect on the horizon. We have made the trek to this Sacred Mountain, and the end of my land, Dinetah, the boundary.


She turns and waves at me. I can see her motions as she looks back at
me and she slowly turns around and goes beyond what places I have known. The horizon has become misty and my eyes become cloudy and gentle rain falls on my hands. So it is with this father and his daughter....

rustywire