Poetry of Witness

The first poem that touched me was “Song of Napalm” by Bruce Weigl. The speaker makes it obvious whom he was speaking, as it states, “for my wife” at the beginning of the poem. The title “Song of Napalm” is a fairly safe reference to the Vietnam war. The poem itself speaks to the difficulty the speaker is having at adjusting to life after the war, dealing with his flashbacks, and the strain this has put on his relationship with his wife. The speaker is most certainly male. I also believe that the speaker is the author, as this poem comes from a book of poetry Weigl wrote that is based on his experiences as a soldier in Vietnam.
The imagery in the poem is what grabbed me the most. When the speaker speaks of the girl “running from her village/napalm stuck to her dress like jelly/her hands reaching for no one/ who waits in waves of heat before her.” It is obvious in the text of this poem that the speaker is haunted by his image. “I try to imagine she runs down the road and wings/beat inside her until she rises/ above the stinking jungle and her pain/ eases, and your pain, and mine.” He tries to imagine that she got away, that she wasn’t hurt by fire, that he wasn’t hurt by the memory, and that his wife wouldn’t be hurting because her husband can’t move past this part of his life. His efforts, however, are futile. “Nothing/ can change that she is burned behind my eyes,/ and not your good love, and not the rain swept air/ and not the jungle green/ pasture unfolding before us can deny it.”
The second poem that struck me is a much lighter poem titled “Rite of Passage” by Sharon Olds. This poem reminded me of my little 4 year old daughter, who likes to put on my dresses and wear my heels and pretend that she is an adult. The speaker of this poem is obviously a mother, as she is talking about her son’s birthday party directly. The audience, however, is a little more ambiguous. To me it seems these are her thoughts in her own head, but there is nothing definite in the poem that confirms this. The poem is about the first 15 minutes or so of her son’s birthday party. The boys are milling around, trying to get to know eachother, sizing each other up, and trying to not seem vulnerable. “How old are you? –Six. –I’m seven. –So?” “I could beat you up, a seven says to a six.” The birthday boy, sensing the hostility, decides to take command and unite his troops. “We could easily kill a 2 year old.” The little birthday boy says. And his troops unite to help him celebrate his birthday.

http://pabook.libraries.psu.edu/palitmap/bios/Weigl__Bruce.html