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Middle Passage

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This long-form poem from Hayden's first volume of poetry describes the conditions on a Spanish slave ship.

Hardcover

First published January 1, 1962

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About the author

Robert Hayden

58 books83 followers
Robert Hayden was an American poet, essayist, educator. He was appointed Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress in 1976.

Hayden was elected to the American Academy of Poets in 1975. From 1976 - 1978, Hayden was Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress (the first African American holder of that post), the position which in 1985 became the Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress. Hayden's most famous and most anthologized poem is Those Winter Sundays[citation needed], which deals with the memory of fatherly love and loneliness.

Other famed poems include The Whipping (which is about a small boy being severely punished for some undetermined offense), Middle Passage (inspired by the events surrounding the United States v. The Amistad affair), Runagate, Runagate, and Frederick Douglass.

Hayden’s influences included Wylie, Cullen, Dunbar, Hughes, Bontemps, Keats, Auden and Yeats. Hayden’s work often addressed the plight of African Americans, usually using his former home of Paradise Valley slum as a backdrop, as he does in the poem Heart-Shape in the Dust. Hayden’s work made ready use of black vernacular and folk speech. Hayden wrote political poetry as well, including a sequence on the Vietnam War.

On the first poem of the sequence, he said, “I was trying to convey the idea that the horrors of the war became a kind of presence, and they were with you in the most personal and intimate activity, having your meals and so on. Everything was touched by the horror and the brutality and criminality of war. I feel that's one of the best of the poems.

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Profile Image for B. P. Rinehart.
765 reviews293 followers
August 8, 2018
I had reviewed this poem before in 2015, but it was a quick and very, in my opinion, lazy review. So I'm gonna do this epic justice.

"Jesús, Estrella, Esperanza, Mercy:

Sails flashing to the wind like weapons,
sharks following the moans the fever and the dying;
horror the corposant and compass rose.

Middle Passage:
voyage through death
to life upon these shores.

'10 April 1800—
Blacks rebellious. Crew uneasy. Our linguist says
their moaning is a prayer for death,
ours and their own. Some try to starve themselves.
Lost three this morning leaped with crazy laughter
to the waiting sharks, sang as they went under'
"

Robert Hayden was born and educated in the Mid-Western state of Michigan. He was taught at the University of Michigan by W.H. Auden. He was of the same generation as Gwendolyn Brooks, who said that he was "one of a growing group of Negro poets believing that matter is not enough, believing that there should be a marriage between matter and manner." He was the United States' first African-American poet laureate (then called the poet consultant of the Library of Congress) and was a very active but under-the-radar poet during his lifetime. The fact that he dedicated himself to modernism, when the era of the Black Arts Movement was dismissing old formalist practices took a toll on his reputation during the late 60s to early 70s.

This poem was first published in the magazine Phylon (created by W.E.B. Du Bois). It was expanded and later republished in its current form. The poem is divided into three sections and is about the Atlantic Slave Trade through the point-of-view of the Slavers themselves. The voices you read in the poem is of actual people telling of their role in the slave trade. The poem is in three parts, the first part describes the what goes on at sea, interspersed with hymns that the enslavers sung and wrote to guarantee safe passage of themselves and their "bounty":
Jesus Saviour Pilot Me
Over Life’s Tempestuous Sea

We pray that Thou wilt grant, O Lord,
safe passage to our vessels bringing
heathen souls unto Thy chastening.

Jesus Saviour

“8 bells. I cannot sleep, for I am sick
with fear, but writing eases fear a little
since still my eyes can see these words take shape
upon the page & so I write, as one
would turn to exorcism. 4 days scudding,
but now the sea is calm again. Misfortune
follows in our wake like sharks (our grinning
tutelary gods). Which one of us
has killed an albatross
? A plague among
our blacks—Ophthalmia: blindness—& we
have jettisoned the blind to no avail.
It spreads, the terrifying sickness spreads.
Its claws have scratched sight from the Capt.'s eyes
& there is blindness in the fo’c’sle
& we must sail 3 weeks before we come
to port.”

What port awaits us, Davy Jones’
or home? I’ve heard of slavers drifting, drifting,
playthings of wind and storm and chance, their crews
gone blind, the jungle hatred
crawling up on deck.


Thou Who Walked On Galilee

“Deponent further sayeth The Bella J
left the Guinea Coast
with cargo of five hundred blacks and odd
for the barracoons of Florida:

“That there was hardly room ’tween-decks for half
the sweltering cattle stowed spoon-fashion there;
that some went mad of thirst and tore their flesh
and sucked the blood:

“That Crew and Captain lusted with the comeliest
of the savage girls kept naked in the cabins;
that there was one they called The Guinea Rose
and they cast lots and fought to lie with her:

“That when the Bo’s’n piped all hands, the flames
spreading from starboard already were beyond
control, the negroes howling and their chains
entangled with the flames:

“That the burning blacks could not be reached,
that the Crew abandoned ship,
leaving their shrieking negresses behind,
that the Captain perished drunken with the wenches:

“Further Deponent sayeth not.”

Pilot Oh Pilot Me
The second part is the recollection of an old Slave trader on what he witnessed in Africa gathering people to be sold across the ocean. Anyone who has read Homegoing would have a good idea of what is being described here. It is one of things that folks have had to come-to-terms with, that the lust for capital was a very colorblind endeavor that saw the destruction of entire nations on one side of the Atlantic to build a multitude of nations and empires across the that ocean--across the Western world.
Aye, lad, and I have seen those factories,
Gambia, Rio Pongo, Calabar;
have watched the artful mongos baiting traps
of war wherein the victor and the vanquished

Were caught as prizes for our barracoons.
Have seen the nigger kings whose vanity
and greed turned wild black hides of Fellatah,
Mandingo, Ibo, Kru to gold for us.

And there was one—King Anthracite we named him—
fetish face beneath French parasols
of brass and orange velvet, impudent mouth
whose cups were carven skulls of enemies:

He’d honor us with drum and feast and conjo
and palm-oil-glistening wenches deft in love,
and for tin crowns that shone with paste,
red calico and German-silver trinkets

Would have the drums talk war and send
his warriors to burn the sleeping villages
and kill the sick and old and lead the young
in coffles to our factories.

Twenty years a trader, twenty years,
for there was wealth aplenty to be harvested
from those black fields, and I’d be trading still
but for the fevers melting down my bones.
The first two parts of this poem are leading-up to the climax which is the court testimony of the surviving Slavers of the rebellion of La Amistad (which means "friendship" in Spanish) that was led by Joseph Cinqué (called Cinquez in this poem). Hayden's idea for this poem first emerged from reading John Brown's Body by Stephen Vincent Benét. He wanted a poem that could respond to Benét's and that became Middle Passage. I've tried to quote as big-enough sections as I could, but this is a truly epic poem that you must read for yourself: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem...
Shuttles in the rocking loom of history,
the dark ships move, the dark ships move,
their bright ironical names
like jests of kindness on a murderer’s mouth;
plough through thrashing glister toward
fata morgana’s lucent melting shore,
weave toward New World littorals that are
mirage and myth and actual shore.

Voyage through death,
voyage whose chartings are unlove.

A charnel stench, effluvium of living death
spreads outward from the hold,
where the living and the dead, the horribly dying,
lie interlocked, lie foul with blood and excrement.

....

“But for the storm that flung up barriers
of wind and wave, The Amistad, señores,
would have reached the port of Príncipe in two,
three days at most; but for the storm we should
have been prepared for what befell.
Swift as the puma’s leap it came. There was
that interval of moonless calm filled only
with the water’s and the rigging’s usual sounds,
then sudden movement, blows and snarling cries
and they had fallen on us with machete
and marlinspike. It was as though the very
air, the night itself were striking us.
Exhausted by the rigors of the storm,
we were no match for them. Our men went down
before the murderous Africans. Our loyal
Celestino ran from below with gun
and lantern and I saw, before the cane-
knife’s wounding flash, Cinquez,
that surly brute who calls himself a prince,
directing, urging on the ghastly work.
He hacked the poor mulatto down, and then
he turned on me. The decks were slippery
when daylight finally came. It sickens me
to think of what I saw, of how these apes
threw overboard the butchered bodies of
our men, true Christians all, like so much jetsam.
Enough, enough. The rest is quickly told:
Cinquez was forced to spare the two of us
you see to steer the ship to Africa,
and we like phantoms doomed to rove the sea
voyaged east by day and west by night,
deceiving them, hoping for rescue,
prisoners on our own vessel, till
at length we drifted to the shores of this
your land, America, where we were freed
from our unspeakable misery. Now we
demand, good sirs, the extradition of
Cinquez and his accomplices to La
Havana. And it distresses us to know
there are so many here who seem inclined
to justify the mutiny of these blacks.
We find it paradoxical indeed
that you whose wealth, whose tree of liberty
are rooted in the labor of your slaves
should suffer the august John Quincy Adams
to speak with so much passion of the right
of chattel slaves to kill their lawful masters
and with his Roman rhetoric weave a hero’s
garland for Cinquez. I tell you that
we are determined to return to Cuba
with our slaves and there see justice done. Cinquez—
or let us say ‘the Prince’—Cinquez shall die.”

The deep immortal human wish,
the timeless will:

Cinquez its deathless primaveral image,
life that transfigures many lives.

Voyage through death
to life upon these shores.
Profile Image for Preetam Chatterjee.
7,576 reviews402 followers
March 17, 2025
“ওগো বৃষ্টি, তোমার সাথে…”

রবার্ট হেইডেনের কবিতা Middle Passage নিছক একটি কবিতা নয়, বরং এটি ইতিহাসের গভীরে প্রবেশ করে দাসপ্রথার নির্মম বাস্তবতাকে তুলে ধরার এক অনন্য দলিল।

আফ্রিকা থেকে আমেরিকায় দাসদের যাত্রা—যা ইতিহাসে ‘Middle Passage’ নামে পরিচিত—সে অমানবিক অভিজ্ঞতার বহুমাত্রিক চিত্র এ কবিতায় ফুটে উঠেছে। কবির ভাষা কখনও ঐতিহাসিক, কখনও ব্যক্তিগত, কখনও আবার নির্মমভাবে বাস্তববাদী।

**“জীবন আমার চলে যায়… **

কবিতার গঠনগত দিক থেকে এটি একাধিক কণ্ঠস্বরের মাধ্যমে গঠিত, যেখানে দাস ব্যবসায়ীদের ভাষ্য, বন্দী আফ্রিকানদের অসহায় আর্তনাদ এবং কিছু ঐতিহাসিক নথির উদ্ধৃতি মিশে গেছে। এই বহুস্বরতা একে শুধু ঐতিহাসিক পুনর্নির্মাণের বাইরে এনে একটি জটিল ও বেদনাদায়ক কাব্যিক অভিজ্ঞতায় রূপান্তরিত করেছে।

কবিতার প্রথম অংশে ইউরোপীয় নাবিকদের আত্মগৌরবপূর্ণ কণ্ঠস্বর শোনা যায়, যারা নিজেদের ধর্মীয় ও সাংস্কৃতিক শ্রেষ্ঠত্বের দাবি করছে, অথচ নৃশংস দাসপ্রথার মাধ্যমে তারা সেই বিশ্বাসকেই প্রতিহত করছে।

“সাত সাগরের আর সাত নদীর ধারা…”

দ্বিতীয় অংশে হেইডেন সেইসব দাসপ্রথার শিকারদের কণ্ঠ তুলে ধরেন, যাদের কেবল পণ্য হিসেবে দেখা হয়েছে। নৌকায় গাদাগাদি করে রাখা মানুষের অসহ্য কষ্ট, লাঞ্ছনা, রোগব্যাধির প্রকোপ—এই সমস্ত কিছুর ভয়াবহতা কবির কলমে জীবন্ত হয়ে ওঠে। এই বর্ণনার মধ্য দিয়ে কবি শুধুমাত্র ইতিহাসকে পুনরাবৃত্তি করেন না, বরং মানবতার প্রতি সভ্য সমাজের এক চরম ব্যর্থতার কথাও প্রকাশ করেন।

“কে যাবি, কে যাবি, আয় রে তোরা…”

তৃতীয় অংশে কবিতার শৈলী আরও সংবেদনশীল হয়ে ওঠে। এখানে তিনি ১৮৩৯ সালের আমিস্���াড বিদ্রোহের প্রসঙ্গ টেনে আনেন, যেখানে আফ্রিকান দাসরা বন্দিত্ব থেকে মুক্তি পাওয়ার জন্য বিদ্রোহ করেছিল। এই ঘটনাটি মার্কিন ইতিহাসের এক গুরুত্বপূর্ণ অধ্যায় এবং হেইডেন এটিকে সাহস, সংগ্রাম ও স্বাধীনতার প্রতীকে পরিণত করেছেন। এটি দাসপ্রথার বিরুদ্ধে এক প্রতিবাদের কণ্ঠস্বর হয়ে ওঠে।

“এই দুরন্ত মনে হরষে ভাসি, আঁধার রাতে…”

হেইডেনের কবিতার ভাষা অত্যন্ত শক্তিশালী ও প্রতীকী। তিনি কখনও সোজাসাপ্টা, কখনও রূপকধর্মী উপস্থাপনার মাধ্যমে দাসপ্রথার ভয়াবহতাকে উপস্থাপন করেন।

কবির শব্দচয়ন ও চিত্রকল্পগুলো ইতিহাসের এক গভীর ক্ষত উন্মোচন করে, যা শুধু অতীতের দলিল নয়, বরং বর্তমান ও ভবিষ্যতের জন্যও এক শিক্ষণীয় অধ্যায়।

“কে বলিতে পারে, কোথা তোমার সীমা?”

শেষ পর্যন্ত, Middle Passage কেবল দাসপ্রথার ইতিহাসকে তুলে ধরার মধ্যেই সীমাবদ্ধ থাকে না; এটি সভ্যতার নিরন্তর সংগ্রাম, নির্যাতিত মানুষের চিৎকার এবং স্বাধীনতার আকাঙ্ক্ষাকে বহন করে। এই কবিতা ইতিহাসের সাক্ষ্য হিসেবে টিকে থাকবে, যেমনটি রবীন্দ্রনাথের গান আমাদের অন্তরে মানবতার প্রতি বিশ্বাস জাগিয়ে রাখে।
506 reviews
October 25, 2023
A poem of a man onboard a ship carrying slaves. Very grim & sad.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews