The River Knows My Name
Wayland, MA
2025, Junior, Poetry & Spoken Word
The oar dips in like a second heartbeat. Again. Again. Again.
It doesn’t match my own rhythm beating in my chest.
I watch the current slip beneath the shell and will my heartbeat to follow.
The slick shell parts the water like a breath
The river knows me.
It sees me when I am strong and weak,
even when I falter.
The river fights back,
with currents, wakes, and wind,
reminding me that I am only a guest.
A duck cuts across the bow of my boat,
leaving no ripple behind.
Its body barely skims the surface,
like it was born knowing the river’s language.
I do not speak it, though I try.
I translate with effort—catch, pull, finish.
Each stroke a guess.
I bury my blade in the water with my arms humming with effort,
legs thick with flame.
My oars, silently carving questions into the water.
I pass by, and he does not startle.
His speckled back gleams,
green and brown against the deep blue.
The duck glides, as if the river carries only him,
not the weight of my body,
or the noise of trying.
And for a moment,
I wish for feathers, a bright orange beak,
for belonging.
But even belonging has its shadows.
Shimmering wrappers float like leaves,
curling at the edges like unnatural petals on a poisoned bloom.
Bottles sleep in the riverbed like bones too clean to be ancient.
The duck weaves through it all,
quiet and knowing
that this place remembers everything we leave behind.
Reflection
My piece was inspired by the quiet, reflective moments I experience while rowing on the Charles River. I’ve always felt that rowing puts me in conversation with nature through movement and rhythm. My coach always tells me to feel the run of the boat and the rivers rhythm. The idea for this poem came from the tension between effort and ease, between being part of the river and always feeling a little outside of it. When I saw a duck glide effortlessly past my boat one day, it struck me: this was a creature that truly belonged. That moment grew into the poem. Then, I started noticing the various wrappers and litter in the Charles scattered in the water and realized our effect on the river. Exploring the theme Connections to Nature: Looking Inside, Going Outside helped me realize how much I rely on the river not just physically, but emotionally. It also helped me consider my role in nature. Rowing on the Charles is a privilege and it is important to remember that animals and other organisms inhabit the river as its home. My message to viewers is this: being part of nature isn’t about control, it’s about awareness. The river has its own rhythm, its own life. The least we can do is pay attention to it, take care of it, and try not to take up too much space.