The poem in question: What Lies In Wait
There is a great jump in time from Accepting Denial to What Lies In Wait–just over two years. By this time I was in my junior year, had my first (and only) high-school sweetheart, and had an English teacher who both hated my best friend Ben and me, and had not a clue what good poetry was (in this way, she was similar to our sophomore math teacher). More detail on this will be brought to light in the upcoming commentaries for The Poem Within A Poem, Pretense, and A Dream.
What Lies In Wait takes a theme I explored in a few other poems, most similarly Can’t Run: the captive power of the devil. Thinking back, I believe that the aforementioned sweetheart and I had broken up by this point, having only gone out for a couple of months. During and after the time we were dating, however, I had started to desire some changes in my life, and I often thought about this theme (though admittedly not as often as more depressing and morbid ones, depressed-morbid-wannabe that I am).
In What Lies In Wait a group of people are being herded toward their final resting place, having surrendered their freedom and now beginning to understand the full import of said surrender.
The tainted light shining from afar / Was fainter than a noonday star
Satan’s power is tainted, obviously, and quite faint compared to the power of God.
Yet fear tried to hold them at bay / Fear of what must, in wait, lay.
Though Satan has little power in comparison, once one is solely in his power with no recourse, it is quite terrifying.
Driven they were, against their will / Driven they were, by force so great / And that is what made them press on
They did not want to go, once they realized what would await them, but they had no more choice.
And when allowed to raise their eyes / The air was pierced with frightened cries.
This poem ends somewhat abruptly, as “Accepting Denial,” but the difference is that I think it works here. Not knowing what the final revelation is, in this case, useful, because it lets the reader make full use of his imagination.
Now, one problem with this interpretation is that they were herded “Throughout the night, into the dawn” and “By midday next they’d reached the place.” Another being “herded at deadly pace.” If these people go to their final resting place, as it were, do measurements of time really apply? They don’t, really, and I am bothered a little bit by the wording. Also, why is it on a hill? If I were to rewrite the lines at this moment, the new verse would go something like this:
They were driven, against their will,
Toward the source of every ill.
They were driven by force so great
It could crush them with its mighty weight.
And that is what made them press on:
Realizing hope was gone.
All too soon they reached the place
Where they’d been led through time and space,
I hadn’t intended to do such a thorough analysis of this poem, much less rewrite some of the lines, but I’m glad I did. I knew this commentary this was a good idea for someone.
And yes, there’s no air in space, boo hoo.
Poetism Commentary: "Can’t Run"
The poem in question: Can’t Run
Written two days after What Lies In Wait, Can’t Run shares a similar theme. In that light, I feel that there is very little that I can say about it by way of exposition.
Well, I take that back. There is something. Where What Lies In Wait treated the people going to their reward, Can’t Run gives a glimpse of them while they still have some hope, ill-founded though it may be:
These are people who have realized that the path they are on is wrong and will ultimately lead them somewhere they don’t want to end up. They make a decision to turn their lives in another direction, but don’t really think about what direction it is, as long as it’s not the same one they were going before. The problem lies in the fact that they don’t realize that there’s more than one way to hell, and that many of them are, in fact, paved with good intentions.
Now, other than a brief blurb in the Achievement commentary, I haven’t touched much on writing style (though I plan to in quite a few upcoming commentaries). It is interesting to me to see that the three poems from my freshman English class contained no attempt at rhyming, and so What Lies in Wait and Can’t Run contain my first published attempts. Early on I seemed very focused on just making the lines rhyme, without much attention to how the lines broke up, or read aloud. (Not that I think poetry is necessarily meant to be read aloud. Often, that ruins it, because too many people have no freaking clue how to read aloud properly. But I digress.) I think these two poems are somewhat hurt by this approach, though Can’t Run fairs better, as does my hasty “rewrite” of What Lies in Wait a few days ago.
These early poems are fun to look back on because it is fun to see what different writing styles I employed and how they have changed (or stayed the same) over time. At the same time, they are sometimes embarrassing to read, because did I really think/write/whatever like that? It’s sort of like when you become a parent and have to change your first diaper, and you’re reminded that you, too, used to pee your pants on a regular basis.
Or maybe it’s nothing like that at all.