Dear Reader: A slight departure today on these Highways & Byways. I decided to handle the following story in the style of the original Moristotelian’s Goines series as a tribute, reviving my character Flanagan for the process.
Goines was out driving one afternoon with the Missus when he saw an Iowa license plate and started wondering about the meaning of the French word “Moines.” He did a quick internet search, finding a statement from the ever faithful Wiki that the city of Des Moines, capital of the great state of Iowa, is named after the Des Moines River and its full French name translates to “the river of the monks.”
Always one to try to rally the troops, he decided to pass this tidbit to fellow third-person Flanagan by email, inquiring if he might find a spark there.
Flanagan, who likes to jump at a challenge, recalled many a trip through the Hawkeye State, including one just last week. He played around for a few minutes and, yes, a few lines did start rolling around in his brain. He quickly typed them into his phone so that he would not lose the language, then re-read the lines over a few times before hitting the send button to fire it back to his friend Goines, promising to keep playing with the idea to see if anything more could be made of it.
Goines was surprised that Flanagan had sent something so quickly. Yet not really. After all, they had had conversations like this before. But suddenly a flurry of emails started coming from the Midwest.
Flanagan had been mid-delivery when he saw the first email, and getting ahead of the store workers assisting on the unload, he made time to whip up those few lines. After sending it, he and Goines decided to take a break, and Flanagan had a moment to dig further.
It turns out, much to both of our heroes’ surprise, that even though the direct translation was correct, neither the waterway nor the metropolitan area were named after monks.
The name actually came from a Native American word for a path that circumvented the rapids in the river. That word, also the name of a tribe speaking the Miami-Illini language, was “Moingona” (eventually shortened to “Moin”). French explorers who came to the area named the river after the people: “des Moins.” Later residents of the state came to believe the “monks” etymology and “corrected” the spelling to the present day “Des Moines.”
Goines and Flanagan were both amazed with both the information and how this totally changed what the poem would have to be. After several more emails back and forth, the first stanza was revised and a second stanza was added.
Flanagan was pleased, Goines worked on formatting the piece, and the email daemons took a break for a few minutes after experiencing such a flurry of activity.
The Des Moines
It is a holy place,
these waters,
a place of prayer
in the shade of Sycamores
rooted deep into the banks,
exposed tubers
drinking life from the river,
dropping days as leaves
to be carried
by the ripples of her flow,
off to a distant sea—
a message for the gods.
But there is no monastery,
no great marbled church,
only a holy wind
blowing through the boughs,
a rustle of fall foliage
still held high,
while the people of this land
walk silently below,
soft steps careful not to disturb
the passing waters and
great spirits rising
to nibble across the surface.
| Copyright © 2022 by Maik Strosahl Michael E. Strosahl has focused on poetry for over twenty years, during which time he served a term as President of the Poetry Society of Indiana. He relocated to Jefferson City, Missouri, in 2018 and currently co-hosts a writers group there. |
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