A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he’s still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he’s still left with his hands.
Interpretation
The quote emphasizes that while we may try to rid ourselves of sadness, we often still carry its remnants with us.
Richard Siken's quote poignantly expresses the struggle of dealing with sadness. Even when we attempt to cast away our sorrow, represented by the river, we are left with the emotional weight still present within us, symbolized by our hands. This illustrates that while we can try to let go of our pain, it often lingers and shapes our experience, highlighting the complexity of human emotions and the challenge of truly moving on.
In practice
During a speech about mental health, this quote can be used to illustrate the importance of acknowledging sadness.
All night I streched my arms across him, rivers of blood, the dark woods, singing with all my skin and bone ''Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.'' Makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.
I'm saying your name in the grocery store, I'm saying your name on the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal covered with frost, your name like a music that's been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud, a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails in wind and the slap of waves on the hull.
You are playing cards with three Jeffs. One is your father, one is your brother, and the other is your current boyfriend. All of them have seen you naked and heard you talking in your sleep. Your boyfriend Jeff gets up to answer the phone. To them he is a mirror, but to you he is a room.
Everything affects my poetry, every day something happens that changes me forever. I’m susceptible and plastic, thin-skinned and moody.
how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple to slice into pieces. Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it's noon, that means we're inconsolable. Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. These our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we'll never get used to it.
You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.
It was the kind of town that made you feel like Humphrey Bogart: you came in on a bumpy little plane, and, for some mysterious reason, got a private room with a balcony overlooking the town and the harbor; then you sat there and drank until something happened.
It was an indulgence, learning last words. Other people had chocolate; I had dying declarations.
I don't like to give the sob story: growing up in a single-parent home, never knew my father, my mother never worked, and when friends came over I'd hide the welfare cheese. Yo, I failed ninth grade three times, but I don't think it was necessarily 'cause I'm stupid. I didn't go to school. I couldn't deal.
I'm the one that has to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life, the way I want to.
The simple life on the farm was everything to me. Nothing was more relaxing after a long plane flight than to reach the winding driveway that led up to my house. The quiet of the night was more soothing than a sleeping pill.
Exhaustion pays no mind to age or beauty. Like rain and earthquakes and hail and floods.
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