I've Known Rivers
When I woke up there was something different about me. I couldn’t tell what it was though. I was just in a unique mental space. I was at peace yet I had a yearning I could not explain. I rolled out of my bed and immediately went to my bookshelf. It is my favorite book but not one that I have picked up in some time -The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes. I had to touch it, feel it and read the very first poem in it aloud. There was a connection. The words rolled off my tongue slow and smooth like fresh dew falling to the Earth.
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 read the poem in its entirety, closed my eyes and placed the book back on the shelf. I’d satisfied that longing. I was no longer thirsty.
My day went on as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Around midnight I laid my head down to rest. Sleep. I fell asleep easy. A few hours into my slumber my phone rang. It was Langston. It was about 11PM his time and 2AM my time. This wasn’t so unusual. He and I have shared many wonderful talks at this hour. But this was something different.
Langston was singing. He was feeling some kind of way. I couldn’t put my finger on it so I just kept the conversation going. He would talk. I would respond. He would sing. I would listen. He seemed restless, my dear Langston. He said that he had to go. I whispered a sweet good night.
Then last night while I was laying on my loveseat thinking about thinking about the world and absolutely nothing at the same time I got a text message. Langston wrote: Thank you for last night. I replied: Our friendship means more to me than you know. Thank you. He wrote back: Make sure I know before we leave here.
I think that explained my morning the previous day. My need to touch the book. My need to read those words. My need to connect with the world’s Langston Hughes. It was around the same time in the universal time frame that my Langston needed to touch me. To hear my words.
Our friendship means so much to me. It flows on its own.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the 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 read the poem in its entirety, closed my eyes and placed the book back on the shelf. I’d satisfied that longing. I was no longer thirsty.
My day went on as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Around midnight I laid my head down to rest. Sleep. I fell asleep easy. A few hours into my slumber my phone rang. It was Langston. It was about 11PM his time and 2AM my time. This wasn’t so unusual. He and I have shared many wonderful talks at this hour. But this was something different.
Langston was singing. He was feeling some kind of way. I couldn’t put my finger on it so I just kept the conversation going. He would talk. I would respond. He would sing. I would listen. He seemed restless, my dear Langston. He said that he had to go. I whispered a sweet good night.
Then last night while I was laying on my loveseat thinking about thinking about the world and absolutely nothing at the same time I got a text message. Langston wrote: Thank you for last night. I replied: Our friendship means more to me than you know. Thank you. He wrote back: Make sure I know before we leave here.
I think that explained my morning the previous day. My need to touch the book. My need to read those words. My need to connect with the world’s Langston Hughes. It was around the same time in the universal time frame that my Langston needed to touch me. To hear my words.
Our friendship means so much to me. It flows on its own.
I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
posted by ClayStarr at 11:23 AM
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