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Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained | |||
Derek Walcott’s "Midsummer: 52" is a richly layered reflection on language, history, and colonialism, using the metaphor of marching troops to explore the divisions and intersections between the colonized and the colonizer. The poem grapples with the duality of cultural identity, particularly for those whose language, English, carries the weight of imperial history. Through vivid imagery and allusions to both historical battles and literary traditions, Walcott interrogates the complex legacy of colonialism and the ways in which language serves as both a unifying and dividing force. The poem begins with the speaker hearing "them marching the leaf-wet roads of my head," suggesting that the tensions between the colonizer and the colonized are not only historical but deeply internalized. The "sucked vowels of a syntax trampled to mud" evoke a sense of linguistic and cultural erosion, as the purity of language is sullied by the violence of occupation. The "division of dictions" highlights the split between two groups—"one troop black, barefooted, / the other in redcoats bright as their sovereign’s blood." This imagery starkly contrasts the oppressed and the oppressors, with the barefooted black soldiers representing the colonized, and the redcoats embodying the British Empire’s military force. The redcoats’ uniforms, "bright as their sovereign’s blood," reinforce the idea that they fight for the interests of the crown, while the black soldiers, though forced into service, are bound to the same system of oppression. Walcott emphasizes the shared suffering of these two groups, noting that "one fought for a queen, the other was chained in her service, / but both, in bitterness, travelled the same road." Despite their different roles in the colonial structure, both groups endure hardship and bitterness, walking "the same road" of subjugation and exploitation. This shared experience of suffering underscores the irony of colonialism, where both the oppressors and the oppressed are trapped in a system that dehumanizes them. The poem then shifts to a broader reflection on the nature of occupation and the lingering effects of colonialism: "Our occupation and the Army of Occupation / are born enemies." Here, Walcott sets up a dichotomy between the colonized people ("our occupation") and the colonial military presence ("the Army of Occupation"). However, the speaker questions whether this division remains clear-cut, asking, "Have we changed sides / to the moustached sergeants and the borsy gentry / because we serve English, like a two-headed sentry / guarding its borders?" The use of English, the language of the colonizer, complicates the speaker’s sense of identity, as he feels caught between two worlds. The image of a "two-headed sentry" guarding the borders of language suggests that the speaker and others like him are tasked with defending a language that simultaneously connects them to the empire and alienates them from their own cultural roots. Walcott’s assertion that "no language is neutral" speaks to the central tension of the poem. English, represented as "the green oak" and "a murmurous cathedral," is both a source of power and a site of contention. The cathedral metaphor evokes a sense of grandeur and reverence, but it also suggests a space where different groups—those who "took umbrage" and those who "found peace"—gather under its shadow. The idea that "every shade, all, / helped widen its shadow" suggests that the expansion of English as a global language has been shaped by both the colonizers and the colonized, even as it continues to reflect the legacy of empire. The speaker’s memories of the British barracks at Vigie reinforce the connection between language and history. The "leaves there, bright, rotting like revers or epaulettes," symbolize the decaying remnants of colonial authority, with the uniforms of soldiers now reduced to rotting foliage. The "stenches of history and piss" highlight the degradation of this once-grand structure, as both the physical and symbolic remains of empire decay in the postcolonial world. The "leaves piled like the dropped aitches / of soldiers from rival shires" evokes the regional differences within the British Empire, with accents and dialects symbolized by the "dropped aitches" (a reference to the non-pronunciation of the "h" sound in certain British dialects). This image suggests that even within the ranks of the colonizers, there were internal divisions and rivalries, from the battlefields of Agincourt to the trenches of the Somme. Walcott then introduces the imagery of Poppy Day, the British remembrance of soldiers who died in World War I. The speaker recalls how "our schools bought red paper flowers," linking the Caribbean’s colonial education system to the commemoration of British war dead. The red poppies, symbols of bloodshed and sacrifice, evoke the broader theme of how colonial subjects are drawn into the imperial narrative, even in death. The speaker reflects on historical and literary figures like "Hotspur cursing the smoke" and "Thersites to Percy," connecting the rage and bitterness of commanders in battle to the ongoing struggles of the colonized. These figures become "our model" for defiance and resistance, even as their anger is co-opted into the colonial narrative. The poem’s final image is particularly powerful: "I pinned the poppy to my blazer. It bled like a vowel." Here, the poppy, a symbol of remembrance, becomes a bleeding wound, suggesting that the act of memorializing the dead is also an acknowledgment of the pain and violence that underpins history. The comparison to a "vowel" reinforces the centrality of language in the poem, as the bleeding poppy suggests that even the most basic elements of speech are marked by the trauma of colonialism. In "Midsummer: 52," Walcott masterfully weaves together themes of language, history, and identity to explore the lasting impact of colonialism on both the colonized and the colonizer. Through vivid imagery and historical allusions, the poem grapples with the complexities of cultural inheritance and the ways in which language serves as both a tool of oppression and a means of resistance. By reflecting on the shared suffering of those trapped in the colonial system, Walcott highlights the bitter irony of occupation and the ongoing struggle for reconciliation and peace.
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