Carry That Weight

I looked up at this rocky ledge, layers of quartzite extending between me and the sky above and descending straight down into the valley below. The weight of the wall made my head spin, threatening to overpower individual polar-fleece-clad bodies scrambling along a narrow walking path. I could picture the stone crushing everything in its’ wake. Mass deportation.

Twice the population of Sweden. Removed.

Feeling like this rock or Antony Gormley’s Space Station or Richard Serra’s steel could fall on me (but probably won’t).

But the hammer has fallen on others before. It’s falling 6,117 miles away and will fall here again soon enough (after all, I am a woman in a “red” state).

The Cheraw people, also known as the Saraw or Saura, were a Siouan-speaking tribe of Indigenous people of the Southeastern Woodlands that called this mountain “Jomeokee”, meaning “great guide.” On my drive home, I saw a bumper sticker with the words “No one is illegal on stolen land.” I made my husband stop the car so that I could take a picture.