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Powerful Fragments in Forché’s "On Earth" Theresa Edwards1 To say that Carolyn Forché’s book Blue Hour is a profound collection of poems would be an understatement. Her tender voice yet jaggedly intense eye is unique, and not only does she demand her readers experience what occupies the real world but also what parks in the surreal. In her long poem "On Earth," Forché uses an ancient form, the Abecedarian,2 to ground her readers in the tangible: the English alphabet. However, the fragmented lines that make up this work whirl whoever reads it into quite a world of imagination based on, at times, very humbling images. In this long poem, much of Forché’s imagery is surreal, as she creates many odd yet fascinating scenes. Each page of stanzas unfolds a panorama of the bizarre that crosses the boundaries of reality yet takes us back to the physical as well as the emotional. She writes:
These lines reveal a place that the speaker has come to where there is no escape, not even to indulge in memory. For the speaker, memory does not help what is presently experienced. Turning the focus for just a minute on the real and physical, Forché then explains what can literally be seen: pots, basins, mirrors, vials, and furnaces. Yet these lines are disturbing; they remind me of what I have learned over the years about internment camps. And they are accompanied by an abstract scene of moments, intangible blocks of time exposed, not time remembered, and a somewhat bizarre image of a chunk of time in which the natural flow of rain reverses. This fragmented mixture of physical and metaphysical creates a fascinating scene of fragile, emotional despair. As readers we can only read on as our eye gravitates toward Forché’s alliteration and anaphora. Forché interrupts the previous lines with two double breaks before layering the scene, as she continues:
Her repetition of words beginning with "m" and her lines beginning with the same "m" words continue to ground me in the tangible, even though the poet proceeds to create a most bizarre scene. Amid a gentle flow of similar sounds along the page, Forché creates a dark and desperate place—more desperate than the speaker’s idea of oblivion—where the mind can play tricks not only on the eyes but also on the emotions. The denseness of mortar smoke skews the scene, and for a part of one of those ominous moments, the bleakness of smoke transforms into the hope associated with growth and fruitfulness. Yet this moment does not last long; it teases me because I look for more hope from the speaker but get the murkiness that is associated with the clutter of a city and a "disheveled night." I see and hear the murkiness of mud itself (the physical) as Forché masterfully adheres to the Abecedarian form. Yet I feel the emotional turmoil that the speaker means to share, as Forché’s fragments remind me of the struggle beneath the physical. Amazingly, Forché’s handling of fragments throughout this piece enables her to juxtapose the real and surreal, enhancing the emotional undertow of the images. She continues:
Readers’ minds undulate through the sounds of "m," hearing and visualizing the physical parts of the setting as well as the metaphysical. And to continuously mix from what is seen or heard to what is neither, Forché haunts her readers in these lines, as she does in many of the lines of this poem. Here the music becomes the motivator and the mood setter, and I immediately think of a movie frame, the dead rising, almost zombie-like, to mix with the living. However, the conflict goes beyond what is found in a zombie movie; the dead in Forché’s poem are the living who exist in a desolate and disparate life. Again, I am reminded of imprisonment and what occurs physically, spiritually, and emotionally to the victims of bondage. Throughout Blue Hour Forché reminds her readers that there is more to life than what is seen. She conveys that what is experienced using all the senses, even the far reaches of the imagination, is what causes humanity to experience struggle. What I most admire about this collection is Forché’s ability to mix the abstract with the concrete, the real with the surreal, at the same time, share the guts of what it is not only to be alive but also to be alive and see beyond the physical. Forché writes head-on into the realms of imagination that, at times, can be frightening but can help nurture social empathy.
Forché, Carolyn. Blue Hour. New York: HarperCollins, 2005. 1 Written for semester coursework with Beatrix Gates. 2 Please see The Academy of American Poets’ web site for the following definition in its entirety: The abecedarian is an ancient poetic form guided by alphabetical order. Generally each line or stanza begins with the first letter of the alphabet and is followed by the successive letter, until the final letter is reached. The earliest examples are Semetic and often found in religious Hebrew poetry. The form was frequently used in ancient cultures for sacred compositions, such as prayers, hymns, and psalms. […] Chaucer’s "An ABC" is an excellent medieval example of the form. […] Abecedarian poems are now most commonly used as mnemonic devices and word games for children, […]. However, there are fine contemporary examples by Carolyn Forché in Blue Hour, and Harryette Mullen in Sleeping with the Dictionary. […]
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