I claim them all.

Do I have your attention? Sadly, these days, it takes more than that to catch a curious internet audience. Whether it be in the form of news reports, horror movies, or the lyrics of every parent’s favorite rap artist, death surrounds our everyday experiences more frequently on a superficial level than on a grave one. We feel close, even intimate because of our constant “contact” with death through media, yet at times we may forget how distanced we have truly become. For example, I have thankfully not had the unfortunate circumstance of attending the burial of any immediate family, yet every Halloween I call up my best friend, shove a $20 bill in my pocket, and head out to the nearest cinema on a mission to witness the next installment of the Saw franchise.

My cynicism towards today’s American society as opposed to civilizations in other eras and locations, however, is unfair – did spectators in the Roman Coliseum not indulge in the slaughter of gladiators, engrossed in entertainment? Death has always been around, and from the looks of it death is not going anywhere anytime soon. In our modern world of hustle and bustle, death remains a hidden constant that even our technological progress has yet to eradicate. The blatant irony, of course, is that death’s manifestations onto movie theater screens and materialization through other forms of media leaves us with little more than quick thrills and fears rather than deep reflection. Constant exposure has numbed us rather than inspire contemplation.

This is why Robert Frost, a famous American poet of the twentieth century, shocked me with his genuine works that didn’t display action, violence, or gore, but rather crumbling human relationships, depression, denial, and ignorance which tend to occur after a death. This hybrid between human behavioral analysis and demonstration of the true magnitude of death is evident in two of his darker poems, “Home Burial”  and “Out, out”.

Pretentious words aside, Frost knew and felt the true impact and intensity of death, as well as the less-than-compassionate responses that people may have towards recently deceased. You know literature is good when it feels like a breath of fresh air from today’s entertainment despite having been written in a different time period – this is exactly how I felt after witnessing Frost’s powerful yet subtle compassion towards the deceased. It’s as if he felt their loneliness and fear before they passed away, and expressed his reverence towards and respect for them through these two fantastic works.

Before I go any further, I suggest that you click on the links to both short poems and skim over them (It should only take a minute or so), simply to give you a basic idea of what is going on:

“Home Burial.” “Out,out”

For those of you who prefer a hear “Home Burial” performed:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=btqJ9W_1clY

Throughout “Home Burial,” Frost addresses and hints at two main features: the different ways in which the couple views the death of their firstborn child, and an underlying power struggle between husband and wife, signifying a clash between these varying views on the deceased son and death in general.

Amy, the wife, carries with her an air of guilt and constant regret, which we later find out is due to the overwhelming shame of witnessing her son’s unsacred and disrespectful burial. This bothers her to no end, and she is very attentive to the outside graveyard, which she regularly views through a small window resting at the top of the staircase. The husband, on the other hand, seems much less concerned with the dead child and more focused on fixing his broken relationship with Amy. His nonchalant and occasionally blunt responses towards the fragile subject of the dead child seem to only damage their marriage further, and his viewpoint represents that of an individual more or less unsympathetic towards the deceased and merely busy with matters at hand.

The husband is the common individual, while the wife’s perspective is that of a woman who has lost a part of herself and cannot overcome the pain of this loss. Amy’s resounding and mighty lines demonstrate the futility of any person to emotionally accompany somebody through death and pretty much sum up Robert Frost’s criticism of our society:

“You couldn’t care! The nearest friends can go

With anyone to death, comes so far short

They might as well not try to go at all.

No, from the time when one is sick to death,

One is alone, and he dies more alone.

Friends make pretense of following to the grave,

But before one is in it, their minds are turned

And making the best of their way back to life

And living people, and things they understand.” (100-109)

In this powerful exclamation, Frost expresses that no matter how close the relationship or bond between 2 individuals may be, a healthy person can never truly travel to this dark world alongside a soon-to-be deceased. I’m sure we’d all love to believe that upon dealing with a seriously ill friend, we would go to every extent in order to insure that their last few days were comfortable and happy, straining ourselves so that they might not be alone on this journey. Although this may be possible, Frost argues that genuinely relating emotionally to a person at this stage of life is almost as absurd as relating physically. In fact, it seems that the only way to appreciate the seriousness of death is to be involved in a life-threatening incident.

Amy has not figuratively lost a part of herself through the death of her child – her experience with death is much more raw and firsthand. Having nourished and carried a living being inside of her for nine months, Amy has formed an anatomical attachment with the baby. Through the death of the child, Amy has died. She feels this. Because of this death, Amy can truly understand the sadness of the occasion and transfer the pain and suffering of the child to herself after he has passed away. A part of her has died, yet the more visible whole of her being is still alive – this makes her an exception to Frost’s theory. Amy understands. And just as one dies alone, Amy herself feels alone in the confines of her house with a hopelessly misunderstanding husband, who can manage to talk of trivial concerns even after having just buried his dead child. The husband’s roughly thrown remarks in an innocent enough attempt to mend a wounded relationship only serve as blows to Amy and her lost boy.

Frost maintains a realistic vibe in the poem by demonstrating a subtle power struggle through body language and varying intensities of dialogue. Amy initially comes across as an uncertain and timid creature, as Frost mentions, “She took a doubtful step and then undid it” (4). When the husband asked her in a demanding tone what she saw through the window while he advanced towards her, Amy “sank upon her skirts” (8). It appears that she is submitting to her husband’s intimidating disposition and abrasive personality. Frost uses dominating language when addressing the actions of the husband, such as “Mounting” (11). Frost’s display of these opposite personalities only increases the tension between the couple, thus drawing more attention to the impact that the death of the young boy has made. I thought it was interesting that Frost included an obvious role reversal within the poem, as the husband simply says, “Help me, then” (46). From this point on, the husband attempts negotiation rather than using intimidation to demand answers, and he even appears pathetic as he begs, “Don’t—don’t go” (59). “Home Burial” is a tragedy of a poem, chock full of Frost’s insights on death. I could elaborate for pages upon pages on the fragility of the relationship and the imminent future of trouble for the couple due to their piling disagreements, but I will leave the rest of “Home Burial” for you to explore as I move on to “Out, out”, a short but sweet (or should I say bitter) poem revolving around the death of a young working boy.

As opposed to “Home Burial”, “Out, out” lacks any dialogue, thus making it seem less personal and offering less insight on human interaction. Rather than write something Home-Burialesque with lines and lines of speaking, Frost simply creates a setting, sets an action into motion, and bluntly concludes the poem. It is important to note, however, the mix between mechanical and animal characteristics of the buzz saw – which, in my opinion, is practically a character with its own mindset. Frost mentions three times that the saw “snarled and rattled” (1,7), giving it ferocious and beastly characteristics while maintaining a cold and nonliving state. Because the saw kills the boy, it can be interpreted as a symbol for death (or perhaps, Death). Just as the action of dying happens on a routine basis but has a raw quality of spontaneity to it, the buzz saw contains both organized, mechanical traits and leaping, knowing, snarling, savage traits.

Upon being struck by the saw, the “boy’s first outcry was a rueful laugh” (19), yet after losing some blood and realizing what happened, “the boy saw all” (22). This quick transition reflects Frost’s theory from “Home Burial” in which Amy states the impossibility of living beings following their friends into death. Before the young boy understands that he is in significant danger, he laughs in surprise, mimicking the husband’s nonchalant and confused behavior in “Home Burial”. A few seconds later, however, the boy sees. What does he see? He sees his mangled and bloodied hand, but he also sees what Amy sees – for he is on his way to death and can now truly understand its gravity and power.

Everyone is shocked after listening to the boy’s heart weaken and eventually stop beating, yet after Frost builds up this tense and tear-jerking situation, he bluntly concludes “No more to build on there. And they, since they / Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs” (34-35). Frost’s biting ending is a sharp criticism of the ignorance of those who can simply carry on with their lives after such a traumatic situation. Of course, he is being dramatic and curt in his ending, but it emphasizes the relative shortness in which it takes the family and friends of the boy to “recover,” if that’s what you want to call it.

Frost takes a unique approach in writing these poems, looking at the complicated yet somewhat predictable reactions of the living towards the dying rather than focusing on the simple darkness of death. I can’t help but think that he was really onto something here, trying tell me, the reader, something about myself—Oh, gotta go. CSI comes on in 5 minutes!