Sings the Stories that Run the River

Mattawamkeag, Maine

A river with many rocks at its mouth

sings the stories of the roll-by ages,

the tumbling heartbreak, the wonder in its gurgle,

a blur of the world as a river on its way is.

Sings the swish of the tail of a White Perch

swirling the ink of Aspen shadows,

feasting on crab and the burrowing mayflies

nestled in the warmth of the sidebar shallows.

Sings the sighs of captive John Gyles

stolen in the wild of an ambush raid,

blessed with the last breath of his dying father;

nine year river rambling day after day.

Sings the tiptoe cadence of the white-tail,

between each cautious step a still-hold,

listening for coyote, listening for the mama bear

fishing in the river, cubs half a year old.

Sings the Indian, sings the settler,

clashing of music as broken treaties will.

Hear the crackling flames underneath

the collapsing roof of John Gorden’s mill.

I am traveling from town to town in Maine in my imagination, listening to and learning the stories that belong in each place. The town of Mattawamkeag in Northern Maine is named after the river by which it sits, an Indian name meaning roughly “river with many rocks in its mouth.” Englishman John Gyles was led captive up the Mattawamkeag River in 1869. You can see his story here: https://www.canadiana.ca/view/oocihm.04813/3?r=0&s=1. The mill of John Gorden was burned down in 1812 by Indians in retaliation for broken land treaties.