I am remembering a tragic time I call the Sorrow of Tears (Summer of Tears). I see in my mind's eye my people's things being destroyed by the murdering whites. I am seething in anger and revenge and sorrow as I see them dump over a huge trailer with our house, who are killed. The feathered headdresses and staff are broken and defiled. I am heartsick. But in great sorrow, I realize I cannot kill in return. I pray for my hurt people.