A sent photo
A child’s face
plane with the pavement
like a mosaic
pieced, flat
the pavement is a house levelled
the word is rubble
the word is collateral
a child’s face
flat to the ground
gray, inset
a perfect fit
the earth and bricks and bits of cement
pressed around it
no blood
not even her hair
just the entire face
moon round
part of the picture
icon among all the other fragments
melted into one surface
so tight
not even her shoulders
You saw it before you could stop seeing it
stop seeing it, you will
never stop seeing it
just her face
eyes closed
they have to be, or the sky overhead
could no longer bear
-Heather Spears
The thing that caught my attention with this piece was the easiness with which it reads and the way that is in conflict with the uneasiness it makes the reader feel. The sentences are short, simple, but not disjointed or jarring. There is an easy, flowing sort of meter underneath it, soft and barely there but also not completely absent. These things make me think of peaceful things, but the actual words of the poem are definitely not. The image that this poem creates is horrific, sad, and unfortunately all to common. The idea that the child's face blends in with the concrete around her, and that the photographer chose to focus on her face more than anything else, yet it still takes a few moments to be seen is a rather disturbing one to me. The final stanza is particularly uncomfortable. We've all seen pictures that we can't unseen, horrible things that someone steal an innocence from us. We wish we had never seen it but at the same time we don't, because we know that it is an ugly world out there and to live in a world where everything seems pretty is foolish. Even worse, the sky itself has trouble looking at the scene. The final three lines really strike me, making me sad and feeling true. "Eyes closed/they have to be, or the sky overhead/could no longer bear" The sky - heavens - themselves mourn for this girl the same way we do, and the only comfort we can take is that we don't have to see into her eyes, because the vacancy where there should be life would be too much for us.
A child’s face
plane with the pavement
like a mosaic
pieced, flat
the pavement is a house levelled
the word is rubble
the word is collateral
a child’s face
flat to the ground
gray, inset
a perfect fit
the earth and bricks and bits of cement
pressed around it
no blood
not even her hair
just the entire face
moon round
part of the picture
icon among all the other fragments
melted into one surface
so tight
not even her shoulders
You saw it before you could stop seeing it
stop seeing it, you will
never stop seeing it
just her face
eyes closed
they have to be, or the sky overhead
could no longer bear
-Heather Spears
The thing that caught my attention with this piece was the easiness with which it reads and the way that is in conflict with the uneasiness it makes the reader feel. The sentences are short, simple, but not disjointed or jarring. There is an easy, flowing sort of meter underneath it, soft and barely there but also not completely absent. These things make me think of peaceful things, but the actual words of the poem are definitely not. The image that this poem creates is horrific, sad, and unfortunately all to common. The idea that the child's face blends in with the concrete around her, and that the photographer chose to focus on her face more than anything else, yet it still takes a few moments to be seen is a rather disturbing one to me. The final stanza is particularly uncomfortable. We've all seen pictures that we can't unseen, horrible things that someone steal an innocence from us. We wish we had never seen it but at the same time we don't, because we know that it is an ugly world out there and to live in a world where everything seems pretty is foolish. Even worse, the sky itself has trouble looking at the scene. The final three lines really strike me, making me sad and feeling true. "Eyes closed/they have to be, or the sky overhead/could no longer bear" The sky - heavens - themselves mourn for this girl the same way we do, and the only comfort we can take is that we don't have to see into her eyes, because the vacancy where there should be life would be too much for us.
"Minor Dreams" by Paul Batou was the poem I chose from the website, and it is interesting that he also uses child imagery to describe the atrocities of war. The image of innocence next to death and destruction is powerful.
ReplyDeleteGwen, include the link for the poem, but don't post the poem itself on your blog, since you don't have the author's permission to publish it.
ReplyDelete