Post
by lthomas » Tue Mar 31, 2009 5:43 pm
From The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne:
When the young woman -- the mother of this child -- stood fully revealed before the crowd, it seemed to be her first impulse to clasp the infant closely to her bosom; not so much by an impulse of motherly affection, as that she might thereby conceal a certain token, which was wrought or fastened into her dress…On the breast of her gown, in fine red cloth, surrounded with an elaborate embroidery and fantastic flourishes of gold thread, appeared the letter A.
I think it interesting that Hawthorne uses such terms as “seemed” and “might” to describe the mother’s actions. In other words, to know Hester’s true intent, we must first learn of her story. I feel this snippet shows that her shame was not of the child but rather speaks to something else - she could no longer hide behind innocence – naiveté was no longer a defense. By her movement of the child to her bosom, two things simultaneously pressed against her heart. One was condemnation the other absolution. She would need to measure both and it would seem destiny hung in the balance of her choice.
5. From Stolen
The man pulled my wrist, and I bit him, so he jerked me away, away from my mother who was on her knees, crying. Her lip was bleeding. A wagoora cackled—caw! caw!--and as the men yanked me outside, I saw it flapping overhead.
Man = the temptations of life (Satan)
I bit him = mortal attempts to defeat it (Him)
Jerked away = taken unwillingly (reminds me of Dylan Thomas, “Do not go gentle into that good night”.
Mother = those who (mortal as ourselves) pray for us
Bleeding lip = they are wounded, yet still pray and believe
Wagoora = How helpless we can feel and desolate our futures appears at times
My submission is a piece I did a while back, called "Something More"
It is partly allegorical but hopefully some will find some intentional symbolism in it as well
But Cap, as he was called, had never seen the sea, in fact, because of happenstance; he only knew the outside world by a round window at one end of his room. A window that was far too high for him to look out and far too small to allow anything but light to pass through.
This window, however, meant a great deal to him; and, as he lay in bed, he would often count the moments until its light would march across the floor and move up to touch his pelt and warm his body. Its touch seemed to draw away his pain. Its warmth bringing comfort; and, during the dark hours of night, the thought of its return gladdening his heart.
Loren
"And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." From "As You Like It." Wm. Shakespeare.
