Adelaide B. Shaw

Remnants

We call her Crazy Rachel. She may be young, but in our minds, she is old. She wears a red Raggedy Ann wig that fits poorly, exposing lank strands of dull brown hair. Her clothes are loose and baggy, a long skirt and man’s jacket, too heavy for the hot summer days when she comes down our street pushing her cart.  “Rags, rags. Give me your rags.”  Our mothers send us outside with bundles collected during the winter months—tattered sheets,  paper-thin towels, torn clothes, and any cloth item that cannot be repaired, reused, or recycled. 

We toss our bundles into the cart, taking care not to get close to her. “She is a witch,” we whisper as we run back to the safety of the sidewalk.

Crazy Rachel doesn’t collect many bundles, and, if she does, they are small. It is the war years, and there is little to use and even less to throw away.

Then . . . one summer the war is over. Meat and butter are back on the dinner table. Ration cards become souvenirs.  Prosperity is promised for all, and Crazy Rachel no longer comes down our street.  Her call of “Rags, rags,” becomes just a memory. 

hidden lives
huddled in the shadows
beyond our ken
a blink on our horizon
we ignore and soon forget

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About the Author

Adelaide B. Shaw lives in Somers, NY  She has been creating Japanese poetic forms for fifty years. Her books, An Unknown Road and The Distance I’ve Come, are available on Amazon. She posts published work on http://www.adelaide-whitepetals.blogspot.com