TAINA PETROGLYPHS...... COLABORATION WITH ISA by Iris  R

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My cousin Isa Rodriguez and I are as one. We come from the same family, the same roots and there is a big history behind us. We are peaceful and heart giving as our ancestors, the Taino Indians, sometimes letting us being pinned down but then the spirit of the Spaniards who are fighters and passionate will take over. The African in us makes us even stronger in our will to survive as a nation, making us strong both in strength and agility.,.. ….And I always remember my brother Chris

After I saw some of Isa’s work similar to the the Taino Indians, my mind started to write a story. We talked about it and after a few tries, this is the, which I think, is beautiful outcome, which we are both very proud of. This is Isa’s story of how she came out with the image and what she thinks about it. The method she used and the information is here
We are very proud of our hystory and this is part of our story, of how we began.

Taina Petroglyphs

A beautiful picture is in the making
Of glorious morning skies
Outside my window view
I sit smiling at my table
Anticipating my opium
My cup of Yaucono coffee
I smell the mountainous Puerto Rican aroma
And drink
My senses go to full gear
I am swept back to my island;
To Eden; my Borinken
My Rain Forrest that runs
From shore to shore
Where the cotorras blend
with the foliage
but their chitter chatter gives them away
A gentle breeze from El Mar Caribe
Beckons me
To savor
The sweet juices of mangos
Papayas and guavas
As a zillion coquies are serenading
The land
They are music to my ears.
Hypnotically I started to dance and sway
Whilst graciously I stumbled onto
The feet of Old El Yunque, my griot
The Sacred One who sees it all
I must have been in a trance
For I hadn’t seen the familiar smoke
Of the Sacred One who sees it all
With the puffs
That speaks of my ancestor’s truths.
I was honored
Mesmerized by it all
“Why have I been summoned?
I dared ask
He looked at me
Took another puff
And chuckled
“I called you?
But it was you who slithered through
The holes of my smoke my child
You are the Petroglyphs
They are written all over your soul
You are ready now my child
The whole truth will be told”
I licked my lips nervously
Waiting impatiently
For the story to unfold.
He calmly took his pilón
Dropped some yucca, mamey, guava
A strand of my hair
a puff of his smoke of truth.
With his maceta he grounded
the ingredients to a powder
of smoke.
A fire came to ablaze
As he whispered
“Smoke my child
And dance slowly on the ground
Dance around the fire
And you’ll see what you are about.
You come from the Orinoco River
From the Amazon River too
From the ancient Mayas
To the Incas and the Aztecs
You were a kin to
You were not a stranger of
The Petroclyphs
For the Petroclyphs are you”.
“But how do you know all of this?
How could you be there and here?”
I once again inquired
He replied
“A zillion years ago I also lived
In the Orinoco River
The Amazon was my home too
I was the Watcher of the Arawak
I journeyed with them from land to land
From sea to sea”.
As I smoked all of these truths
From where I came
My visions stronger they grew.
I saw how my Petroclyphs
My lines, circles, patterns and patches
Were written upon many caves and walls.
I journeyed on with my Wise Old El Yunque by my side
My ancestors joining in
Until we were met with the Caribbean Sea.
Canoes started coming out of nowhere
We all climbed in
and sailed until we landed
on our beloved Borinken.
From the beautiful sea
Dark clouds began to appear
you could see the sails
Of unfamiliar ships
Coming our way.
An agonizing fear,
One I had felt before
Made me hide behind my
Protector
Horror is what I saw!
The strangers,
The Spaniards
Killed what we had become
Peaceful, friendly Tainos
Except the ones that like me
Had begun to hide and run.
As time went by
And I thought it was safe to come out
Other dark clouds started filling the skies
I looked to the horizon
And more ships were to arrive.
This time with
With dark colored skinned people
With chains on them.
They too claimed the Old El Yunque
As their Protector
Their Watcher.
In utter disgust I looked away
and cried out my disdain
“Assassins, Assassins!!!!
Look at what they have done!!!!!”
That’s when the old man
Looked at me and said
“This my child is your last smoke
Of truth for the day
I want you to take it all in……..
And puff it out all with all of your strength
for this is the wisdom I give you
within you I want it to always stay.
Dance my child around the fire
Dance and dance
Until it all sinks in
Remember all that I have told
Remember all that you have seen
It is not to be forgotten
This is your history
This is you
This is your children
You hate the Spaniards
But they are part of you
And you cannot hate yourself
The Africans became your brothers
And in time your fathers too
And the cherished Taino
Has never left
He lives in you.
You are a pattern,
Circles,
Patches
A blend of all colors

The Spaniards
With the flamenco that makes
Your spirit strong and passionate
The guitar
Makes your heart
a romantic song
and the violin
makes you a wandering
gypsy soul

The African
Mulatos, beautiful mixture of black and white
With Taino makes a canela (cinnamon) skin
A delight
We dance to the drum of the African beat
With hypnotic, fiery dancing around in circles
All dressed in white
By the fire
Strong spirited
Strong boned
Africa still calls to us.

Taino
Ahhh my child
The paintings on the cave walls
Straight
Curved
Dazzling
Lines
Painting
Birds
Cotorras (Parrots)
Guaraguous (hawks)
Iguanas
Trees
Nature

Don’t hate my child
we have come full circle. We have closure.
It is written on the walls
we are

PETROGLYPHS