“Song of the Dead Birds”

Warnings: Suicide (graphic), implied violence, death described in a detailed manner, afterlife, implied physical discipline/ child abuse(?), self- depreciating thoughts, teasing, poor parenting, and mental health, spiritual connection(s).

I still remember the day I was born. I know most people do not even know of their earthly conception however I am guessing that is what happens when your father is a bit of a non-sacrificed deity. I do not remember much before my conception in my mother’s womb. But, from my father, with his head of a snake and his wings of the dove, who has told me of all the age old stories. I know quite a bit more than I believe even he does. I know of how it all went down…. I know of how the mother of nature, Ezra, created my father, Selex, along with his two brothers. Adeli, with the head of a seal and the fox tails of nine. And Zerkse, with the body of a leopard and the face of an eagle. And how eventually, after being with their mother in the outer world for many years, they eventually tired of each other and wished for freedom. So, the three brothers decided to separate themselves from each other and go down to the land of Gaia and go their separate ways. Ezra to the skies, Zerkse to the land and Adeli to the sea… and they have never sought each other out again, even after all this time…. However, my father has told me of a time when they agreed to meet together again, at a focused clearing where even the Great Mother could not see and tease them, as one’s mother often does. I know this day is tomorrow, based on how my father has spent all day making a new bird to show to his brothers, as self-appointed king of the skies, that is one of his many feats and fantasmics. “Why could he not bring me?’ I think to myself. “After all, he knows how connected I am to the world of the Great Mother and all her creations and the creations of the other Gods, as much as I plead with them in my hopeless and hostile prayers.” As I hear Grandmother Nature’s heartbeat in my ears- it is strong, hopeful… surprisingly. I think to myself: “I must go and ask him of this nonsense, ‘bring your most prized possession to our meeting’ they say in their nonsense words to the wind, however then the man creates a bird! Believe me, I have respect and love for the land of Gaia and The Great Mother’s prized possessions of the universe more than anyone else. Why, I even tamed my own Igwababa Elikhulu simply by showing myself! In battle they call me the vulture- how could he not choose me!?”. I decided to ask him about this. 

“My son, why do you wish to speak with me”? My father asks, slightly slurring his S’s as he looks on to the bird he has created. It is- to say it was beautiful is an understatement. The bird itself, with its plummaged chest and its tail feathers straight, looked as if it were made of glass. And with the way the light was shining onto the bird and making gradient colors across both me, my father, and the rest of our tribal home… however this is not what I came for. “Father, I have a question for you that you must take seriously before you answer with a parental lie,” I say, the bone jewelry across my hair and body clinking softly as the bird cautiously pecks at them with newfound curiosity. “Why do you not wish for me to join you to this sacred meeting of your brotherhood tomorrow? Am I not your most prized possession, I your own seed”? 

“Ah, my son, little knife,” My father says, looking down upon me as he says it “You are simply mistaken, this meeting is not after the next moonrise! It is in another six! I am simply making this bird as a gift for your mother! Now, run along now and practice your bow and knife skills…”. My father says, with a gentle, pitying look in his eyes. I hate that look. I hate it, and more importantly I hate the feeling of it. The feeling of being looked down upon, of being infantilized as if one cannot hunt, fight, or be in tune for himself. It is as if I am singing and suddenly the many others dancing around the fire look at me as if I am not the best, as if I did not practice this exact part for the exact reason to sing to my Grandmother of the earth. However, still I could tell my father was lying, simply by that sympathetic look on his snake like face. So, I have decided to follow him into that same clearing and watch what happens. If not for revenge or clarity than simply for the act of gossip. 

The Next Day: 

I have been following my father for half of the day now. The bird is perched on his shoulder, peacocking to the other birds in the trees as if it is particularly better. Using my carved knife, carved from the purple crystals of our home tree mind you, I climb over and under rocks in the open fields by the forest to keep out of sight of my father. Our yellow eyes with slits for pupils never meeting. And then I see them, in the clearing in between the fall trees. Zerkse holding what looks to be a branch of berries, budding with life. And Adeli with a chubby young seal pup patting his face as he sits laughing. As I watch as they exchange greetings and pleasantries, the fire of jealousy and the urge to show myself becomes louder and louder. I watch as Zerkse presents his bush of berries and shows off their delectable sour taste. I watch as Adeli shows off his youngest son, Azelua, and how smart he is for a “fledgling” as we would call him in the skies. And finally, it was my father’s turn to show off his ‘prized bird’ as he shows the bird off and the other two sit amazed, and then, after a few bits of time, they manage to grab their consciousness, and begin asking the much more needed questions. 

“Selex, my brother, do you not have a son- X’holia, is that his name? Why would you not bring him”? Adeli asks, bouncing his son lightly as Azelua sucks the blood from a tiny cut on his papa’s forearm. “I hear from the winds that he is not only a fierce warrior, but he is proving himself a fine leader”! 

“That is just the point,” My father says, shaking his head side to side with what looks like parental guilt in his eyes. “He is much too temperamental, much too… harsh… on others. Stern if that is one way to put it lightly. It seems as if his only desire is to prove to me and his mother, Elexia, that he is like a fierce peacock to others and himself”. 

“Ah. come along now, i’m sure the boy's little temper tantrums can be controlled by a sharp cut to the cheek”! Zerkse says with a sly smile. Slightly holding up the branch of berries as if it is a weapon instead of something taken from a living being, like a child taken from its mother. I watch as my father laughs softly, while the others laugh like gluttony. 

This- this cannot be… I will not stand for it! To calm me temperamental is absurd! I mean, sure, sometimes I get angry and blow off a little steam by punching or yelling or… fighting, running off… but I never actually enjoy it! To talk about me as if my family did not discipline me, and as if I am not a proper warrior, hunter, and prince of the king of the skies is-it’s-! 

I look at my knife, tied to my loincloth, it is shining in the light of the setting sun…. It looks very beautiful. I bring it close to my breast…. I wrap both my hands around the woven handle of the blade, and… with a war cry that makes the birds, fishes, and land mammals flee to nearby caves.. I push the blade into my chest. 

I can no longer taste my own spit, I can no longer smell the flowers and humidity of the forest, the nearby fires. I can see myself falling onto the evergreen ground. I can feel my father’s warm scaled hands and fluttering wings plucking me up and putting me in his lap as if I am still a newborn fledgling. I can hear him pleading… cursing the Great Mother, his brothers, the birds, anyone and everything around him he can blame, even himself. And then nothing… until- a bright light shows itself to me… an eye. The eye of my grandmother, Ezra, looking down at me as a divine warrior instead of a ‘temperamental teen’. 

“Welcome home, my child…” She says to me, now this- soaring to great heights… is where I belong.