Just wanted to thank the guys involved in "part 1". Good info and pretty much what the prof. was expecting. Part 2 is a poem by Mary Oliver entitled "A Visitor". My father, for example, who was young once and blue-eyed, returns on the darkest of nights to the porch and knocks wildly at the door, and if I answer I must be prepared for his waxy face, for his lower lip swollen with bitterness And so, for a long time, I did not answer, but slept fitfully between his hours of rapping. But finally there came the night when I rose out of my sheets and stumbled down the hall. The door fell open and I knew I was saved and could bear him, pathetic and hollow, with even the least of his dreams frozen inside him, and the meanness gone. And I greeted him and asked him into the house, and lit the lamp, and looked into his blank eyes in which at last I saw what a child must love, I saw what love might have done had we loved in time.
OK, this is what I get from the poem: there was some great separation between the father and the author, but the father must have needed the author quite badly, and came pretty much begging for help, or shelter. And even though the author still resented her father, after a while she gave in, and from then on, the hatred was gone, and they found the unbreakable bond of love that must have once been between them... so basically the underlying theme (at least, from my POV) is that love conquers all, even years of silence and hatred between your own kin. and that love can put a new wind into someone so jaded as her father.
I think we need our resident poet laureate to chime in with his opinion... Lets hear it for the Duke of Poetry!
My father, for example, who was young once and blue-eyed, returns on the darkest of nights to the porch and knocks wildly at the door, and if I answer I must be prepared for his waxy face, for his lower lip swollen with bitterness Analysis - Her father goes to Raves and now wears 8Ball contacts well on Ecstacy trips. And so, for a long time, I did not answer, but slept fitfully between his hours of rapping. But finally there came the night when I rose out of my sheets and stumbled down the hall. The door fell open Analysis - Her Dad was busting some mad flows with the homies and it was keeping her up, so she went down the stairs and totally ate it. and I knew I was saved and could bear him, pathetic and hollow, with even the least of his dreams frozen inside him, and the meanness gone. Analysis - She wants to tell him he's a bitter old asscheese, but the ice cream he ate too fast is making him have to take a **** something awful And I greeted him and asked him into the house, and lit the lamp, and looked into his blank eyes in which at last I saw what a child must love, I saw what love might have done had we loved in time. Analysis - Although her father is a junkie and a pedophile, she still wishes he wasn't so stoned so she could tell him that she loves him.
My take? Notice the physical cues... "for his waxy face, for his lower lip swollen with bitterness" Observe: Her dad's an alky... that had a habit of getting drunk, getting into fights, and coming home so late that he was locked out of the house." She grew up in fear of him. There is no mention that the Mother wasn't there also, only that she slept "fitfully" as in restlessly. She had followed suit, and even disowned him when she was of age to do so, ignoring him in his hour of need. And who could blame her? She was scared. But when she got over her fears of his problem and saw him as he was, hollow and without any hope... now older herself, she realized she could have, and should have loved him all along. And maybe, it's not too late. Poetic indeed.
