as featured in the March/April 2010 issue of Cowgirl Magazine available in Barnes & Noble, Borders and other national outlets
Sky blue stones of hardened hope adorn the warriors’ throats, wrists and arrow tips as their shattered dreams of yesteryear flash like cedar shafts fletched with despair. Mother Earth’s translucent tears are laced together in the dark web of pain she weeps for errant children long since scattered by the four winds.
Few listen to her whispers. Few feel the shame or the pressure of the past. Few see the truth that floats upon the fragile robin’s egg shaped by the First People’s hands. So glows the turquoise soul sinking beneath the amber waves of grain on Turtle Island.
Rare, valuable and equally inspiring to poets and pharaohs alike, the gemstone now known as turquoise has been prized throughout the world for millennia because of its rich luster and unique hue. Turquoise derives its name from French for Turkish (Turquois) or dark blue stone (pierre turquin). However, turquoise does not occur in Turkey, naturally, but was traded with other exotic Silk Road valuables by European merchants at Turkish bazaars.
Not so bizarre was the moment I first fell in love with turquoise on a Gold Coast summer’s eve when I stared into her magical eyes. Deep, icy blue with hints of coppery green, they laughed and danced a matrix of intrigue about my mind and heart. Rose petal lips softly spoke my name, but I heard her clearly o’er the din of clinking crystal, witty banter and a hungry hunter’s heart. Her hair was golden, like ripe wheat, and caressed the curve of her back so seductively that if I leaned into it, I’d be lost forever. My rough cowboy hands wanted to farm her.
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