Hello dear reader, and welcome back. Today’s blog post will be a little bit heavier than usual, as we will be looking into poetry regarding 9/11. The two poems I would like to discuss in this blog post are Photograph from September 11 by Wislawa Szymborkska and The Names by Billy Collins, because I feel that there are definitely concepts that these two poems can relate to.
In Szymborkska’s poem, “one, two, a few more” individuals can be visualized leaping away from the burning buildings and towards the ‘end,’ only to be held in their places by photograph. As I read the poem, I felt like time was moving slower and slower – “There’s enough time / for hair to come loose, / for keys and coins / to fall from pockets.” And as time slowly began to halt to a glide, the faces of these people could almost be seen, but never identified. Szymborkska never gave them a label – a “name” – for they are all “complete, / with a particular face / and blood well hidden.” Szymborkska incompletely concludes her poem, suggesting that it is up to the reader to find their own ‘conclusion’ with regards to those who are still held up in the air.
“I can only do only to things for them – / describe this flight / and not add a last line.”
Collins’ poem may seem a tad uplifting due to the A-Z pattern that’s present. A little walk down memory lane as children learning the alphabet for the first time, and associating various objects and images with the respective letters. However, this uplifting feeling quickly fades to grey as ‘Ackerman’ and ‘Baxter,’ families that lost families in the flames or the earth, replace the uplifting ‘apples’ and ‘bunnies’ of the alphabet. Unlike Szymborkska, Collin leads us through a trail of identification, contemplating the names that may have been burned in the fire or buried beneath the earth. “Names blown over the earth and out to sea [….] Names etched on the head of a pin. / One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel.” Instead of letting the reader draw their own conclusions, Collins puts a name to the face. Names of different heritage, and of different cultures, from A-Z.
“So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.”
Although these poems may materialize contrasting images (one focusing on the individual, another putting a name to a face), they both contribute to the question of identification. It wasn’t only pure-bread Americans that lost their lives in that event, it was also individuals of different cultural backgrounds and heritage. There might have been Afghans/Afghani who suffered loses in the same attack, so who has the right to say that they should suffer more and be discriminated against? Because “the voice of our country” said so? Regardless, the bottom line is that tremendous amounts of life were lost that day, and instead of a “call for arms” there should have been a “call for peace.”
Maybe I’m just being naive and ignorant, but I believe that hatred breeds more hatred. So doesn’t it work the same way for love?