After winter’s blast, a gang of us swarms the banks of the Thames beneath a leaden sky, picking our way through mud contaminated with sewage, slippery and sucking at our boots. We wear our hungry faces like masks, our hands red and purple from the icy wind. Occasionally, a cry goes up as someone skids and slips towards the water.
My little brother, shivering in his thin jacket, grips my arm, hoping for a safe place to perch while I prod the mud for treasure: a brooch, a penny, a cracked clay pipe, to sell or exchange for a scrap of meat or fish for our supper.
Behind the skeleton of a rowing boat, the Rock cries out to us today: “You may stand upon me, but do not hide your face.”
We smile at each other, and I lift him onto the rock.
Kim M. Russell, 20th January 2020
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Prosery: “The Rock cries out…”
This Monday Frank T. is our barkeeper for another Prosery, a prompt to write nor more than – or exactly – 144 words of prose, using a given line from a poem.
Frank reminds us that the United States has been celebrating the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. The line is from a poem inspired by him and written by Maya Angelou, ‘On the Pulse of Morning’:
“The Rock cries out to us today, You may stand upon me, But do not hide your face.”
writing in north norfolk 
This must have been before the days of metal detectors. I like the idea of your little brother sitting on the rock.
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It’s a look back into the past, A Victorian story. But people do still mudlark in London – for archaeological purposes.
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Very interesting!
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This is lovely. Sad, but true to the reality of rag-pickers in days gone by in Europe and not so gone by in some places in the world. Heartening and warm even in the described cold.
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Thank you. I’ve seen photographs of rag-pickers in other parts of the world and, until last year, thought that it was a part of London’s past. Then I heard about a book by a someone who mudlarks in present-day London, more an archaeologist.
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Yeah, I can see how it would be an archeological/research-like kind of thing to do in London (and along some other rivers and canals in Europe, perhaps). Rag-picking is still something some need to do to survive in less-developed countries, alas.
This piece was very well done!
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In India and Africa and Mexico, even today, people scavenge for food and things to sell. The picture you used is great, and the story told is very complete, a step into the past.
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back in Victorian times, it was a way of life, a means of survival. There are people who mudlark today, although now it’s a hobby for would-be archaeologists. I’ve yet to read a book by a woman who mudlarks in London.
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I was right there through your descriptive prose. Nice weaving of prompt, photo and story.
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Thank you!
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A poignant slice of life, with an evocative use of the sentence! Bravo, Kim!
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Thank you, Frank!
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I love how you draw us into the scene with your detailed descriptions. I even had to check my feet- to make sure I wasn’t squelching through the mud! Love it
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Thank you, Viv!I wrote and posted the poem just before going to bed and didn’t realise until this morning that I’d typed in the wrong title – a possible Freudian slip? I’ve changed it now…
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Lol! I didn’t even notice. By the way, is there a new baby in the family?? saw your pic on twitter
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Sadly not yet, but they are trying. The photo is of Lucas, the day he was born, which I used to illustrate a haiku. I have my fingers crossed! 🙂
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You certainly evoke the era, and I love how you weave the story.
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Thank you!
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It was a treat.
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Cleverly written, drawn from the photograph and brought to life. Bravo!
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Thanks Bev! The story came first and then I searched for a suitable image.
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This is such a well told story Kim, and I have never heard of ‘mudlarking.’
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Thank you, Linda. Look out for a book called Mudlarking by Lara Maiklem.
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I will!
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First of all, love the term mudlarking, and how much a term like this hides, about poverty and the necessity to find your sustenance from simple treasures. Still, for a couple of siblings, it had to be great adventure.
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It has recently become a hobby and there’s even a book written by a modern mudlarker.
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This rock, safety for your little brother. Sweet!
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Scraps of Civilization
Garbage Dumps of Seas
Scavenging Left-Overs
Whatever
Rock
is
Left to Eat..:)
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It could come to that, Fred.
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Hopefully
More Care
Will Come..:)
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😊
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😃
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