The Names
By Billy Collins
Analysis
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze, And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows, I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened, Then Baxter and Calabro, Davis and Eberling, names falling into place As droplets fell through the dark. Names printed on the ceiling of the night. Names slipping around a watery bend. Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream. In the morning, I walked out barefoot Among thousands of flowers Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears, And each had a name -- Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins. Names written in the air And stitched into the cloth of the day. A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox. Monogram on a torn shirt, I see you spelled out on storefront windows And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city. I say the syllables as I turn a corner -- Kelly and Lee, Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor. When I peer into the woods, I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden As in a puzzle concocted for children. Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash, Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton, Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple. Names written in the pale sky. Names rising in the updraft amid buildings. Names silent in stone Or cried out behind a door. Names blown over the earth and out to sea. In the evening -- weakening light, the last swallows. A boy on a lake lifts his oars. A woman by a window puts a match to a candle, And the names are outlined on the rose clouds -- Vanacore and Wallace, (let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound) Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z. Names etched on the head of a pin. One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel. A blue name needled into the skin. Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers, The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son. Alphabet of names in a green field. Names in the small tracks of birds. Names lifted from a hat Or balanced on the tip of the tongue. Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory. So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart. |
Billy Collins' "The Names" is a beautiful and touching piece of poetry that describes 9/11 as the melancholic day we all remember it to be. Collins, however, uses a different approach to this day. Using various elements of figurative language he manages to capture that strong sentiment of sorrow and remembrance of the lives America sadly lost that day. He uses a serious tone, and similes throughout the poem to display appreciation for the memory of the victims that died that tragic day. Billy Collins uses the alphabet to symbolize the victims of the attacks and lists name by name to emphasize his point of view on 9/11. By using allegory, each letter becomes synonymous of the lives that were lost, but at the same time he expresses that it is impossible to write down all of the names of those whom died. Collins even includes those who were never found after that disastrous day. His detailed descriptions and figurative language create a melancholic setting and at the same time portray his dark and sorrowful feelings towards this dreadful day. Given these points the poem clearly brings a sense of the massive amount of citizens that were killed in this attack, Collins is also telling readers to remember 9/11 and those who died.
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