bodies in mourning.
In the lanes, a sword cuts down children, If the path of the wind were not blocked, where would I go?
If the world were set to rights again, what would the poet do? In fact, in this poe, the poet cannot envision such a thing. He admits the failure of his imagination to rise above the personal and global devastation. Such n admission requires no small amount of courage.
Of course, the reason this man suffers so much is that he believes so much. In "Poem for a Bleak Season", the poet expresses his indestructible confidence in the ultimate triumph of life and freedom over oppression and death:
Who can confine the paths of fragrance with barbed wire?
Who can cut
the unfolding fingers of dawn
with daggers?
The morning cannot hide behind a fortification of clouds. On every wounded branch flowers are blooming.
Lips move even on the face of silence.
Two gentle questions which imply that their answers are indeed negative plus three undeniable assertions equal a message of hope and consolation, not a prophecy of doom and despair. Barbed wire, daggers, and the "fortification of clouds" have no power over the quiet, intangible but nonetheless undisputed movement of fragrance, dawn, and the morning. Even more! Wounded branches will blossom; and lips, no matter how silent or silenced, must speak.
Many times the poet addresses his fellow human beings, sufferers all. He seeks to make a pact with them: if I lead the way, will you come after me?
If I parcel out my body,
will you march with me in the streets
holding aloft the banners
of your own severed heads?
If I wear my wounds, will you cause drops of moisture to drip from some sword upon my cold lips?
Annual of Urdu Studies, #7 gg