As a Black man, his life and career has largely been shaped by racial tensions in America, but he continues to overcome barriers in becoming a forefront poet of his generation. Komunyakaa served in the United States Army from to as a news correspondent. In addition, he was appointed as the managing editor of the Southern Cross newspaper, for which he was eventually awarded a Bronze Star.
He currently teaches as a Distinguished Senior Poet in New York University's graduate creative writing program and has published over 14 poetry collections. Komunyakaa, Yusef. Academy of American Poets , www. The memorial is a long wall made from a reflective obsidian and is etched with the many names of fallen US soldiers.
The speaker is forced to confront his place among the wall, but also as a Black American man who was a participant in the horrors and traumas of what took place during the war. As he tells himself not to cry, he sees planes and clouds in the sleek reflection, and also remembers the brutality of the war in glimpses of memory while he scans the many names.
The guide themes, chapter outlines and character summaries are more detailed than other sites. Komunyakaa was inspired to write the poem following a visit to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial some 14 years after his time as a soldier in the Vietnam War.
The poem deals with the speaker's struggle to confront traumatic wartime memories while looking at his reflection in the memorial's shiny surface and staring at the names of fallen soldiers.
Couched within this is a meditation on race, as the speaker who is Black feels as if his face blends into the memorial's dark granite—a metaphor for American society's unwillingness to fully acknowledge the sacrifice Black soldiers made for their country at a time when the U. My black face I'm flesh. My clouded reflection I turn I go down Names shimmer on A white vet's In the black Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem.
The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem. But he does touch the stone, and the name of an ex colleague perhaps? Andrew Johnson could be any soul from anywhere in the United States - it also happens to be the name of the 17th president of the USA, vice-president to the assassinated Abraham Lincoln. But this is not a historical President's name, this is the name of a soldier who fell victim to a booby trap explosive out in Vietnam.
Touching that name has ignited a memory, an instant image. As the black soldier studies the granite surface and the names, he sees reflected a woman's blouse.
It's confusing. The blouse seems to have the names printed on it and he thinks she'll take the names away when she walks off.
But no. Deep down he would like those names to disappear with that woman, in the here and now. That would eradicate the past, the decision, the war, the battles, the bombs, the deaths. When a bird flies off it seems there are brush strokes - are they too brushing away the names? It's just a bird, a red bird, blurring the situation. He looks up as a consequence and sees a plane. Is this in the here and now or is it back when, in Vietnam? He's caught between a rock and a hard place.
The poor white veteran loses his arm in the granite. Did he lose it in the war? Why is he looking through the speaker? Perhaps the speaker is feeling guilt; guilt; that he is not on the granite name list, that he is not one of the dead. The final three lines bring the speaker back to the present but not before he confuses the brushing of a boy's hair with the wiping away of those names, of the past and all its ugly truths. The boy is the future, the new generation to come.
And so this mini-struggle to overcome the past ends on a positive note, with the black soldier able to distinguish between reality and memory. A filmic poem, with strong imagery and simple language. Marine Biology. Electrical Engineering. Computer Science. Medical Science. Writing Tutorials. Performing Arts. Visual Arts.
0コメント