Postcard from Taos
Judith Terry McCune
July 1, 1998
I bought a ring in the Pueblo today.The turquoise stone looks like Earth seen from space, like a planet slung on my hand: the crust shifts, the vast plates split and float, the landcrashes, forming new continents, paradigms, tribes, new reasons to love strangers. Like the Indian woman who sold me this ring:She smiled as I searched her silver display and like each Pueblo vendor she asked me where I come from. Polite: a stock line for the tourist. But also, I think, it's a plumb linedropped from the branch of her family tree, frown tall over thousands of years, grown deep. How can she measure what is always moving? I can tell her the who or the when, even why but without some deep where I am stranded, adrift, casting lines over an earththat could split any moment.
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