sometimes a river is a river, sometimes more...

from my anthology of must read (a)merican poems

Langston Hughes

The Negro Speaks of Rivers

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
       flow of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.
I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln
       went down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy
       bosom turn all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

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“The Negro Speaks of Rivers,” written by Langston Hughes, after crossing the Mississippi River by train, on the way to Mexico City, is a poem of great force and beautiful language. This poem has been with me most all my life – being the first of Hughes’ poems that I remember reading when I was young. I don’t think it’s possible to forget this work. Its impact is unavoidable: “grown deep like the rivers”.

Hughes’ writing makes me feel the full weight of the world: Euphrates, Congo, Nile, Mississippi. He emphasizes the personal: I’ve known, I bathed, I built, I looked, I heard. I am complicit in this process – both as reader and as one who lives and acts in the world. The slow, steady drift of the river wears down all things – with time. The poet writes, “My soul has grown deep” just as the rivers of the world grow deep. I am complicit – “the flow of human blood in human veins”.

In this poem, “Ancient, dusky rivers,” while unhurried and meandering, are also relentless and determined in their many powers. The river is an ever-present force, and – most importantly – a force that cuts into the world. Culture, people, history. The great rivers take in all the world’s tributaries – streams of oppression, trade, inhumanity. Also, freedom, art, accomplishment. Hughes shows a juxtaposition of the noble and the dreadful in his reference to Lincoln’s journey to New Orleans. Everything becomes part of the river's flow – “the muddy bosom” that “turn[s] all golden in the sunset” – as it empties into the one sea.

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Hearing Hughes' voice inside the words – and audio file at the Academy of American Poets – reinforces my trust in this work.