An Agony. As Now.

This poem is amazing. I think it's probably the best poem assigned in class and it all happens for me in the last stanza:

It burns the thing
inside it. And that thing
screams.

This small little stanza sums up the entire poem, but it does it in a way that is haunting. The whole poem talks about this man/soul being trapped in a metal jail/another human and we see the suffering steady throughout, but this last stanza makes you FEEL the agony with the speaker. I'm really impressed with Baraka's ability to do this because it sneaks up on you. It certainly did to me.

This oppression is hot like metal, it is suffocating and unrelenting. I think what hits it home for me the most is the fact that even though "this thing" is screaming, the oppression, the hot metal, is stopping it from being heard. He is screaming out, being burnt by this oppression, and he has no way of letting it out and letting himself be heard.

Baraka has this ability to bring forth your own sense of touch when talking about this metal. This metal burns, burns, burns. Imagine a summer day getting in to your car. You reach to put on your seat belt and you grab this hot metal. You immediately pull away, cursing the sun for the pain. You fidget and manage somehow to put on your seat belt without touching the metal. You avoid this metal because it BURNS and it HURTS. Imagine not being able to remove your hand from that metal? Imagine being stuck in your car in the middle of no where, windows up, 100 degrees, with your hand permanently attached to this belt buckle. You're screaming in pain, wanting desperately for someone to come save you. Wanting some sort of relief from this scolding metal....and no one even knows you're there. That's agony.

It's like watching a horror movie. This person is being tortured. We are aware that this person is being tortured, but there is no hope for them. No one can hear the screams, the cries. He is forever trapped to feel this agony forever. Forever.