A Poem for a Thursday #89

Photo by Kübra ÇOLAK on Unsplash


Robert Hayden was an American poet, essayist, and educator. He grew up in Detroit, Michigan and experienced a difficult and traumatic childhood. This pushed him to read as an escape from the violence and depression surrounding him. He was the first African-American to hold the position of Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress, now called the US Poet Laureate. He was criticized in the 1960s because he insisted that he be judged "as an American poet rather than a black poet, when for a time there was posited an unreconcilable difference between the two roles." However, many readers feel his best poetry involves the Black experience and their history.

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake up and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices? 

Those Winter Sundays
Robert Hayden

2 comments

  1. That's another poet that I had never even heard of, I'll look him up, it's very good. Thanks.

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    1. It is good, isn't it? I like the line about "love's austere and lonely offices."

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