Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Linda Hogan’s “Seeing Through the Sun” is a meditation on the duality of light as both a revealer and concealer of truths. Through sharp imagery and a subtle interplay of metaphor, Hogan presents sunlight not as a symbol of purity or clarity, but as a deceptive force that masks pain and injustice. The poem delves into how people navigate trauma and violence under the guise of normalcy, and how the oppressive weight of truth can either be hidden in plain sight or bravely confronted. Hogan’s Native American heritage and her frequent exploration of themes of displacement, survival, and resistance add depth to this exploration of light as both a physical and metaphorical force.

The poem opens with a striking accusation: “How dishonest the sun, making ruined cities look like dust.” Typically, light is associated with truth and clarity, but Hogan subverts this expectation by presenting the sun as a deceptive force. The use of the word “dishonest” personifies the sun, implying that it plays a role in obscuring the reality of destruction. The “ruined cities” being reduced to mere “dust” suggests a minimization of trauma, as if the aftermath of devastation can be swept away or ignored under the bright glare of daylight. This sets the tone for the poem’s exploration of how light can mask deeper, more painful truths.

In the next lines, Hogan continues to describe the sun’s ability to create illusions: “In that country of light there is no supper / though the sun’s marketplace reveals / the legs inside young women’s skirts, / burning round oranges, wheat loaves, / and the men’s uniforms with shining buttons.” Here, the “country of light” is depicted as a place of superficial abundance and visibility. The “marketplace”—a symbol of daily life and community—becomes a stage where the sun exposes surface-level details, such as “legs inside young women’s skirts” and “shining buttons” on men’s uniforms. These vivid images suggest vitality and normalcy, yet the absence of “supper” indicates a deeper lack—perhaps of nourishment, security, or genuine fulfillment. The contrast between what is visible and what is absent hints at the underlying dissonance between appearances and reality.

The poem then shifts to the emotional response of those living under this deceptive light: “We are polite in the sun and we ask for nothing / because it has hit the walls with such force.” The “politeness” described here suggests a forced civility, a suppression of needs or complaints in the face of an overwhelming, oppressive brightness. The sun’s light, far from being gentle or nurturing, is depicted as an invasive force that “hits” the walls, creating an environment where vulnerability is stifled. This portrayal of sunlight as something to be endured rather than embraced reinforces the idea that visibility does not equate to honesty or healing.

As night falls, the truth begins to emerge: “But when the sun falls and we are all one color / and still in danger / we tell each other how this child was broken open by a man, / this person left with only fingerprints.” In the darkness, when superficial distinctions like color fade, people are free to share their stories of trauma and violence. The phrase “we are all one color” suggests a unity born from shared vulnerability, yet the danger remains, implying that the threat is both external and internal. The imagery of a child “broken open” and a person “left with only fingerprints” is haunting and visceral, highlighting the brutal realities that are concealed during the day. These lines suggest that while darkness may provide a space for truth-telling, it does not necessarily offer safety.

The struggle to confront the sun’s deception is evident in the next lines: “Sometimes one of us tries to stand up to the light. / Her skin burns red as a liar in fear’s heat.” Here, the act of challenging the light is likened to exposing oneself to danger. The burning skin symbolizes both physical and emotional pain, while the comparison to “a liar in fear’s heat” suggests that confronting the truth can feel as perilous as being caught in a lie. This paradox underscores the complexity of living with hidden trauma—the fear of exposure can be as intense as the trauma itself.

Despite the risks, there are moments when the truth breaks through: “So in the light we say only, / Never mind, I was just passing through the universe. / It’s nothing.” These lines reflect a tendency to downplay or dismiss one’s experiences in the face of overwhelming forces, whether they be societal expectations or personal fear. The phrase “just passing through the universe” conveys a sense of insignificance or detachment, as if the speaker is minimizing their own presence and experiences to avoid confrontation.

However, the poem ends on a defiant note, urging a reckoning with the light: “But there are times we tell the truth; / Sun, we see through you / the flashing of rifles and scythes. / Let’s stand up. The enemy is ready for questions.” The shift from passivity to active resistance is striking. By addressing the sun directly, the speaker asserts their awareness of the violence hidden beneath its glare. The mention of “rifles and scythes” evokes imagery of both war and labor, suggesting that the oppression is multifaceted, encompassing both physical violence and systemic exploitation. The call to “stand up” signals a refusal to remain silent or complicit.

The final lines reinforce the urgency of confronting the truth: “There is light coming in beneath the door. / Stop it with a rag. / There is light entering a keyhole. / Cover it with your hand and speak, / tell me everything.” Here, light becomes an invasive force that must be physically blocked to create a safe space for truth-telling. The act of “covering” the light suggests that only in the absence of external scrutiny can genuine stories be shared. The plea to “tell me everything” underscores the importance of bearing witness and creating spaces where hidden truths can be spoken without fear.

Structurally, Hogan employs free verse to mirror the fluidity and complexity of navigating truth and deception. The lack of punctuation allows the lines to flow into one another, reflecting the continuous interplay between light and dark, visibility and concealment. The shifts in tone—from accusatory to resigned to defiant—underscore the emotional range of grappling with hidden trauma and the courage required to confront it.

In “Seeing Through the Sun,” Linda Hogan challenges conventional associations of light with truth and goodness. Instead, she presents light as a force that can both illuminate and obscure, revealing surface-level beauty while concealing deeper pain. Through vivid imagery and a nuanced exploration of trauma, Hogan highlights the tension between visibility and vulnerability, and the courage required to speak the truth in a world that often prefers silence. The poem ultimately calls for resistance, urging readers to recognize and confront the forces that seek to obscure the realities of violence and oppression.

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