Hats Off To Rita MacNeil

I wrote  this piece of poetry for Rita after seeing her perform at Blyth in 1994, and I mailed it to her at Big Pond, Nova Scotia.  That is all the address it took, just her name and Big Pond.  I received a  handsome letter back from  her, thanking me for my gift of beautiful words!  And she is just a beautiful woman.  Nova Scotia will never be the same now.  But her soul rides out along the black rock, and the Men Of The Deep will sing along with her spirit, for all eternity.

Hats Off To Rita MacNeil

Porch songs, and music from her soul

Poetry set to a mood of notes, combination of love and sadness,

And life itself, she sets us free.

Most beautiful lady!

You can  laugh at yourself and find the deep, ethereal joy

In the sunrise and the waves and the black rock on the shore.

The world’s judgment does not matter, for you have learned to overcome.

I love the candid way you kick off your shoes and make no apology

Your enjoyment is a tangible thing that reaches out to me

Touches my soul

And I let you, dear, sweet woman ~ your smile is sunshine in a sad, lost world

You are not afraid to rock and roll, what surprise!  What a difference you make!

I weep and I smile and I rejoice at what you give from your heart

My tears fall as I write; what could I give you in return?

I, in  my tiny way, write my thoughts, and would like to someday leave my mark

To share with somebody, somewhere, somehow I might help to lessen

Somebody’s pain.

I am awed by your simple, honest beauty, so genuinely given

So valuable and tremendous, and yet so unpretentious

It restores  my hope for mankind, that we may still learn to love, share, and forgive

And strive to be better.

I bow in gratitude to you and I will keep the melody

Part of the creative and loving artistry of music that you weave

Within my mind and my heart

To remind me of your humble soul that gives with no restraint

But with courage and with love. 

In memory of Rita MacNeil

With utter admiration, cailin raine

When Jesus Takes The Wheel

There was black ice early that evening and I had just turned the corner,

Headed up the highway to pick you up from skating lessons.
I had read about black ice, and I knew the temperature was right around zero
But nothing had prepared me for this invisible, dark surprise!
Suddenly I was on a skating rink of my own, with snow banks for walls
Without skates, but with four, round, rubber tires instead.
The steering wheel was useless, it made no difference at all
I was a speck spinning out of control, cast like dice on sinister ice.
Swirling snow, mind-blurred…in the centre was a sane space
Where peace sat like a bubble; I reached it and sat myself there.
It was like sitting in the middle of God’s hand; I waited
While the car spun about me in mad oblivion.

Up ahead approached a huge semi, and I did not miss the connotation with

Your estranged father, was bemused by it, even in those crazy moments.

It would surely kill me, crush my tiny, brown Chevette

Like candy wrapper thrown nonchalantly to the ground.

Peace hung over me like a canopy; I felt almost happy!

But there was a much stronger pull; I could see your little face

The only thing I could really see, was your little face, waiting, waiting

For Mommy to appear and pick you up from skating, why was I late?

What if Mommy could not show up that day, or ever again?

My heart was lying broken in my chest at the thought

And fierce supplication brought me strength; an angel sat beside me

And another sat on top of the car.  I would survive and arrive

To pick you up and not leave that little girl alone.

The car lurched then, charged like a bull, evenly hitting the snowbank

Head on, straight, clean, perfect angle…what magic made the car ride up

Over the bank directly into the field below, an oasis of snow?

I was driving in the field now, and I looked up to my right…

To see not one, not two, but three semis roar by.

They had not even slowed, to do so on the black ice

Might have been total catastrophe.

A young girl watched from her farmhouse window

And she jumped into her car to come to my rescue.

I was climbing up the steep embankment, slogging through

The deep, white drifts… aching for you and for our wee car, “Beans”.

But I was fine, and I was coming to get you!  My plan was to hitch into town,

Acquire a tow truck and get to that skating rink come hell or high water,

To reach you and ease your fear, to put a smile back on your sweet face.

Angels had whispered to the wonderful girl sitting by her window;

She drove me into town and the tow truck had soon rescued Beans,

Still intact, unscathed, and I was on my way again, cautiously wary

Of the wicked ice and the mere seconds it could take to lose control.

I pulled into the parking lot of the arena, hurried in to find your

Anxious, bright eyes glued to my face, and with relief I took your hand.

You were the reason I prayed; You were the reason I stayed.

You were the reason that Jesus took the wheel that day.

With love forever to Little Flower, Mom

Ask And It Shall Be Given

There is a Mountain full of hope, but I cannot seem to reach the top
Where the summit brings joy and peace
I sit stranded somewhere near the middle on a precipice where the rocks
Are jagged and dig mercilessly into my back and poke at my sides
With a giddy laugh!

My face is smeared in dirt and tears, even when I have scrubbed and soaked
And other people think I am shiny clean like the sun, all yellow, orange, cheerful
But inside I cry and cry and I ask the River for streams of mercy and life-giving
Water...for my throat is dry, so dry that I cannot even scream.

Somewhere in a desert is a man, stranded just like me
And the cactus pricks his hands, and he bleeds inside of his own heart
He cries inside of his own tears and I do not hear him scream
Because I do not know how to listen even to my own.

The sand blows hot and wild about him; the wind drives hard around me
We are separated by the huge, black clouds lurking about our bodies
While the breezes toss nearby lulling and singing...
"Be free!, Can't you see?  All you have to do is reach out!
Take each other's hand and the sands will blow away!
The Mountain will crumble and the black clouds will part!
It will rise again with rocks of gold, and you will fall and worship
Then you will both dance into the Sunbeam...
She has been waiting, waiting, for you both to reach out to Love."

"Just reach", says the Wind
"Sing", says the Rain
"Be free", cries the Sun

"Smile", say the lovers to each other.

cailin raine

The Red-Light Night of the Prairie People

The room above the bar was the cheapest we could find

We could see the filthy alley from the window, hear the grind

Of heaving, dirty bodies midst the rubbish down below,
We could see them in the moonlight, red-light ladies in the glow.

The men were darkened figures, grunting pig-like on the earth,
We closed the grime-stained window, cast our eyes towards the hearth
Where our fire made soft shadows on the multi-colored wall
And we pretended we were safe, unlike the low-life down below.

I had one clean, white-lace nightie left, the armpit carefully sewn
And I washed in the basin which had edges very worn
I glanced at the man whom I had wed, sprawled on the bed
And felt the life inside me move, like the tumult in my head.

Then the raucous laughter crept its way, up the barren stairs
And I opened the old door a crack, and brushed my golden hair
Our room was such a far cry from my girlhood fancy home…
And I turned to see the man I loved, stretch and softly moan.

How far we’d brought the wagon from the prairie’s dried dust fields!
Where no crop was left to feed us, no wheat or flour or yield
The grass was brittle underfoot, the cattle thin and starved,
We had to leave the home we’d loved, the life which we had carved.

Now these dreadful streets did mock us, where could we start anew?
I chained the door, looked out the glass, watched a black bird as it flew
She flew up to the rooftop of the highest house in town
She soared up to the chimney, and never once looked down.
　　
And then a Peace did settle, and it felt like Grandma’s lap
Where I’d rocked as a little girl, and she’d tell me, “Don’t look back!”
“Forge ahead and pray my girl, He’ll never let you down!”
Words spoken from her wrinkled face, I’ll ne’er forget the sound.

Her tender words with Irish lilt, sank deep into my bones
And I knew then with a certainty, we’d make a brand new home
The wee one there snug in my loins, shifted in her sleep
As did my man on his weary bed, lost in dreams so deep.

I blew the dripping candle out, and laid down by his side
Tomorrow we would pack and plan, continue with our ride
Towards the promised pasture where the sun and rain would give
Our future and our livelihood, our love would last, we’d live!

“Onward Christian soldiers!”, my Grandma softly sang
And as our wagon trundled on, I felt the warm, sweet rain!
My husband turned to smile at me, the drops fell from his face
And here I knew beside this man, there was no better place.

We left the red-light ladies in the dreary, dingy bar
And the day we found our homestead, we knew we’d come so far!
From the saddened prairie dust bowls, to that evil alley strife…
To these fields of grass and splendour, our new God-given life.

cailin raine

If I Walk

If I walk the man-made dikes atop the grass grown wild

And wander along those pathways worn by hunters, men

I trod on the soil of labour and I reach into their souls

Excitement burning in me because I stroke their world.

The wind tosses my darkened curls about my face

My eyes turned skyward trace the clouds and the hawks

As one they soar sky high and daring, elevated beyond

The daily endurance and drudgery of day by day routine.

I am caught in the magic and I do not want to leave

This land of sacred heron and proud, white crane

The geese honk and chatter, the ducks fake a startle

A parade of sound and performance as I watch spellbound.

How I wish to be a part and not a spectator

To take the wind in my hands and hold it

To take the long, wild grasses and clasp them

To feel the languid waters against my soul and…keep it all for me!

I walk on and on and I never want to go

I want to keep these minutes, I want to climb into

The heart of them and stay to watch the maple leaves

Turn crimson and then fall softly to the carpet beneath.

I do not want to miss a single breath of it

I lean to touch the bark and caress the roughness

Against my cheek - I can feel the spirit stirring within

And does he wish to hold me just the same?

The golden rod and nannyberry, the dogwood and sumac

The wild, apple smell in my nostrils makes me dizzy

The kind of buzz I could crave forever

I walk and walk and I will not miss a beat.

Dragonflies flit and land, dart and dash about me

Big, striped bees land on my shoulder and I gently push them on

Hawks bravely dip and hover, waiting for their mates

Nature itself is clapping aloud!

The sky is still blue and it is hours since I rested

I know my body commands me to take it home

The sun shimmers still even though the afternoon is dying

Ending, always ending, the things that I love all seem to leave.

One last long, sweeping gaze and I must depart

Back to a world where busy is the order of the day

I long for the disarray of tumbling weed and grass

The surprise of hidden bridge or concealed creek.

If I walk in this Hullett place I remember the best

Of all the places that I have ever been

If I walk in this marshland space I am cleansed

And I go freely back to where I came from.

cailin raine

If I Walk

If I walk the man-made dikes atop the grass grown wild

And wander along those pathways worn by hunters, men

I trod on the soil of labour and I reach into their souls

Excitement burning in me because I stroke their world.

The wind tosses my darkened curls about my face

My eyes turned skyward trace the clouds and the hawks

As one they soar sky high and daring, elevated beyond

The daily endurance and drudgery of day by day routine.

I am caught in the magic and I do not want to leave

This land of sacred heron and proud, white crane

The geese honk and chatter, the ducks fake a startle

A parade of sound and performance as I watch spellbound.

How I wish to be a part and not a spectator

To take the wind in my hands and hold it

To take the long, wild grasses and clasp them

To feel the languid waters against my soul and…keep it all for me!

I walk on and on and I never want to go

I want to keep these minutes, I want to climb into

The heart of them and stay to watch the maple leaves

Turn crimson and then fall softly to the carpet beneath.

I do not want to miss a single breath of it

I lean to touch the bark and caress the roughness

Against my cheek - I can feel the spirit stirring within

And does he wish to hold me just the same?

The golden rod and nannyberry, the dogwood and sumac

The wild, apple smell in my nostrils makes me dizzy

The kind of buzz I could crave forever

I walk and walk and I will not miss a beat.

Dragonflies flit and land, dart and dash about me

Big, striped bees land on my shoulder and I gently push them on

Hawks bravely dip and hover, waiting for their mates

Nature itself is clapping aloud!

The sky is still blue and it is hours since I rested

I know my body commands me to take it home

The sun shimmers still even though the afternoon is dying

Ending, always ending, the things that I love all seem to leave.

One last long, sweeping gaze and I must depart

Back to a world where busy is the order of the day

I long for the disarray of tumbling weed and grass

The surprise of hidden bridge or concealed creeks.

If I walk in this Hullett place I remember the best

Of all the places that I have ever been

If I walk in this marshland space I am cleansed

And I go freely back to where I came from.

cailin raine

2007

… an ode to the beautiful Hullett Marsh near Clinton, Ontario

The Wagon Wheel

No one spoke is more important than another

Together they make the circle full

The wheel turns from ground to ground

Through the years it goes ‘round and ‘round

It goes from dust to dust

But the first dust is never the same as the second.

Like us it moves up and down

The road downward can become the moving on

And in the end, death can be our final gift.

It never felt like my parents would ever be gone

But now that they are, a gentle ache stays,

Reminding me of rough hands on the tractor wheel

And tireless hands shaping round circles of pastry,

Sweet smelling bales of hay lugged to the barn on wagon wheels

And round, delicious apple pies set out to cool.

At the old farm there were wagon wheels

Down over the bank nearing the little creek

I can still hear the voices of the little girls in long dresses

Bonnets and boots and giggles, as we pretended to be

Pioneers on a wagon train.

We covered a million miles on that old, dilapidated wagon,

Blood sisters with brown skin and dusty fingers,

But loving every minute.

Whenever I look at a wagon wheel

I am reminded of timeless joy

And my father’s wagon wheels lean proudly now,

Resting against the split rail fence by our lane.

cailin raine

2002

Stages of Love and Getting It Right

I remember that first time, when we were way too young

And your eyes were way too brown and your hair wavy and black

I fell head over heels as I walked up to the plate and picked up that old bat

And I started swingin’ then, and I guess I never stopped, ever since

Been battin’ and swingin’ ever since.

There were love letters and stolen glances, playin’ in the barn and plannin’

On a kiss that never quite happened, ‘cause back then they kept an eye out, eh?

But in my dreams you kissed me and my eleven year old heart thumped.

Then I was battin’ a better average when he came along, blue-eyed and tall

And a special twinkle in his eye that stole my heart right off and I knew

It was not the most appropriate fit, but I was swingin’ anyway, and we found

Seventeen year old love in the back seat of an old, Chevy car.

A little older and wiser, and somethin’ about his shoulders and bedroom eyes

Just took my breath away, and even though I knew in my heart it was too hard

I walked down that church isle a child and I gave birth to my son as a woman

And then later a little girl just made the whole damn thing worthwhile.

I was still swingin’ and runnin’ bases when I met the sweet, shy guy who

Brought me south from the valley and that was quite a feat in itself

Sheep farmin’ and hikin’ the back fifty with Bowsie at my side, she adored me

And I just loved the freedom again of the country and the air and the space.

Seems I’ve made a lifetime out of fallin’ for the wrong fellows as I slide from

Base to base and the odd time I was lucky enough to get a home run!

I was slidin’ into third when his slim, blond, charismatic image hog-tied me

One more time I gave my heart to an impossible situation and I sang my heart

Out just for him, and rocked with the band just like I knew what I was doin’.

Then the east called to me from a different direction, and I met the one with his

Finger in the dike, and it took me a long time to figure out that he was never

Ever gonna take it out!  But he had my heart and he had my soul and I let him

Hurt me just like all the rest.  Then I got a little house alone and I laid down my bat.

Been doin’ some thinkin’ and I figure now that what I was missin’ was Process…

If I can just pick up the bat at the right time, and swing it at the right ball

Then maybe I can hit it right up over that big, darn fence they built and I can

Even watch it land in the long grass over there as I slide my real best slide

Gettin’ dusty and dirty in the process, but it’s a damn good slide this time

Right into home plate, and it will feel so good that I will decide to stay.

I’m gonna keep dreamin’ ‘bout that last home plate.

(Be who you are, and keep on truckin’ …somewhere along the white line there’ll be that truck stop just for you!)

cailin raine, 2006

Rag River

“Rags to riches”! I always heard…and knew it was vintage talk

Never paid a lot of attention to it, but the sayings sat in my mind,

At the back somewhere and occasionally nudged, dusted off from a corner

And brought forth with a bit of humour and a cough

Like," Well that's a humdinger ain't it?"

Or, "Do ya have any notion of it?"

"Skinnymerdink" was my Mom's nickname for Dad

And she would sing, "Roll a bowl, a ball, a penny a pitch!"

And my little girl refrain, "Out about the cow's tail!"

Whatever it all meant who knows, but it was a lot of fun.

Never knew a place could be called a thing like, "Rag River"

But there it was, “as plain as the nose on your face“!

A weathered, beaten sign, hanging “as crooked as a dog's hind leg“!

Swaying a bit like a drunkard headed homeward,

But readable still perched high above the bridge.

"Rag River", and I paused to take a "look-see".

The river swerved and curved and crashed,

And all along the sides were tousled reeds and weeds and rocks

 Somehow it gave the impression of rags strewn all along…

Like someone had been on an immense cleaning mission

Frantic at trying to clean up a big mess.

And so the river lived out its name

Wildly mimicking the idea of rags upon rags,

And I muttered the name to myself until it became

Not an idea of trash or refuse or mess,

But of industry and admiral toil, men going “down under”

Like the song so eloquently sung by Rita MacNeil

“I never again will go down underground”!

But here was Rag River above ground and dashingly visible

Here was a river like an entity itself!

Struggle and hardship, honour and perseverance

All wrapped up in this glorious display

Mother Nature had outdone Herself! and I watched mesmerized

As her waters crashed and the rapids roared.

 In my mind's eye I could see Meryl Streep in "The River Wild",

Paddling ferociously against the strength of the current,

Strong brown arms sure and precise and brave

The spray casting a dewy essence all over her body

And I became the woman on the river

And I felt the stinging cold spray on my flesh

The pulse of the current live under my canoe!

Rag River pushed against my slim wooden craft

And I soared with her essence, our souls locked

In a glorious, furious rush of life and chance and wit.

The sunlight shone equally in the glint of the river water,

And in the innermost depths of my eyes bright with daring.

We were one! and then I felt the ease of the river…

As it slowed about the bend, and we began to drift

Together into a place of rest and refuge,

Coasting easily towards a warm, cozy eddy tucked

Behind the rocks there on the other side.

I looked up into the tenderness of the sunbeams

And knew I had gone from rags to riches

Pure golden sunlight had seeped into my being

As Rag River had carried me along her tumultuous journey

She had shown me how to win the battle.

I had fought and I had won.

Now I could stay, on the other side.

cailin raine