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