AQWF 4: Broken

Author's Note: While reading chapter four in All Quiet on the Western Front, the idea that one must be broken in order to have the ability to feel whole was heavily displayed. Without bumps across the way, it is impossible to know or feel what "good" feels like. Along with incorporating a mimic line from Remarque, I decided to write a poem, explaining how things must be broken in order to be whole, good again.

Broken
Beating, pulsing
Slower and slower,
Her heart thumps on in misery,
Reminiscing her old, lost love.

Her body folded, draped over
The couch, she hasn't moved
For days, days spent
Crying, breaking, shattering.

Lower than ever,
She is sure she has reached the end,
Her heart can take no more--
No more pain, sorrow, remembrance.

Nights fall, mornings rise.
And still no movement,
Still lying hopeless,
Drowning in her grief.

Finally a change.

The girl rises,
Not only from the couch,
And permanent position,
But from her deepest depression.

The sun shining though her windows,
She leaves her house,
Leaves her old memories,
Her old love,
Her sadness.

With newly found energy,
She walks.
Taking in the summer atmosphere,
She picks her heavy head up..

And sees him.

The quickening of her heart
Refreshes her mind,
The brokenness rushes,
Quickly out of her,
Everything changes.

Feeling better than ever,
A cure crosses her face--
A smile.

No more sorrow,
No more sadness,
No more tears.

Mimic Line
"The roar of the guns makes our lorry stagger, the reverberation raging away to the rear, everything quakes."(53).

The quickening of her heart refreshes her mind, the brokenness rushes quickly out of her, everything changes.

AQWF 1-3: Footsteps

Author's Note: Inspired by the quote, "Kemmerich has lost his foot. The leg is amputated," and how Kemmerich later died from his injuries, I decided to again reflect upon the motif that has impacted me the most and meant the most to me--feet, and how they display every part of us, our personalities, our experiences, and our life stories--that has been displayed in All Quiet on the Western Front. Although the feet of the soldiers may not have been literally cut off, that separation represents death, and how when one's life story ends, so does his life

Footsteps

Head down,
Watching my feet tread on
With a crisp sound,
They crunch the dry,
Hard straw beneath,
My every step.

My leather boots,
Worn to exhaustion,
Can take no more.
Their soles drenched,
Stained in blood,
Displaying my life--
Everywhere I have been,
Everything I have experienced.

With every last effort,
I continue to climb over
The endless piles--
Piles of the lost souls,
The souls of my friends,
My best friends.

Laying lifeless on the battleground,
Their shoes have been removed,
Their feet severed,
Leaving incomplete bodies,
Incomplete stories,
Incomplete lives,
Helpless, hopeless...



Dead.

AQWF 2

Coexisting Good and Evil

Constantly searching for the good, incredibly submerged, in the seemingly evil world allows those experiencing sadness to escape the grief, and focus on the positive. As this is heavily practiced, it seems quite miraculous that such beauty and good can coexist with darkness and evil. Displayed through beautiful imagery, Remarque conveys this idea of good in a truly evil world, and how it aids people through rough patches in their lives.

As war is a truly evil place, filled with unusual violence, disturbing distortions, and murderous death, beauty must be sought if one wishes to survive. When experiencing a death of one we long, we naturally do not want to focus on the sadness, but rather on the happiness or past memories of that lost person; finding the good in the evil situation. In order to get through the morning of Kemmerich, Baumer goes to his designated “happy place,” and drifts into the world of good, “Thoughts of girls, of flowery meadows, of white clouds...”(33). Obviously not wanting to face the death and evil, Baumer searches deeply for the good in his world, and solely focuses on those peaceful and happy memories. Because there is such paradox of good and evil coexisting in this world, it allows for beautiful miracles to occur—healing of those deeply wounded.

AQWF 1

Feet

Many believe that by looking into another’s eyes, it is possible to see their past experiences; however it also appears that one’s life story can be displayed through something much less expected—their feet. Throughout the first chapter of All Quiet on the Western Front, the motif of one’s feet and its deeply seeded meaning is obviously present, revealing, in a sense, that our life stories are told by our feet and their condition.

Although only a chapter into the novel, drastic changes are occurring to soldiers and their bodies—more specifically their feet; fellow soldiers also seem to know each other’s conditions of their feet quite precisely. If one has nice boots, and unharmed feet, he most likely has a hint of coward in him—not daring to put his life in danger. A dear friend to many, Kemmerich was severely injured while stuck in no man’s land—a place in which everyone is vulnerable, and accepting to the fact that death is coming their way. When visited, Kemmerich told his friends that, “I have such a damned pain in my foot”(14). Although he once did have a pain in his foot—a bump in his journey of life—his leg is now amputated, Kemmerich completely oblivious to this fact. With one foot gone, half of his life’s journey is an unanswerable question, leaving his future up for grabs. Because half of his story has been eliminated, and his body is nothing but useless, he is left with no option, but the inevitable. It seems necessary for him to return home, only to strengthen his other leg and foot, in hopes of rebuilding his broken life.

Temptations

Author's Note: As heavily present throughout Jekyll and Hyde, we are all enslaved by multiple things; the idea most prevalent in this section was temptations. Jekyll was constantly in the middle of a fight between his two sides, temptations continually haunting and forcing him to transfer to the dark and evil side of himself. Inspired by the line, "It was an ordinary secret sinner that I at last fell before the assaults of temptation," I decided to write a poem, attempting to capture the struggle of choosing between working towards good and giving into evil.

Temptations
Pulling at my heart strings,
Wracking my brain,
Tearing my body in two.

Temptations,
Endlessly hurling themselves my way,
Seducing me with their options,
Forcing me to choose,
Questioning my morals.

Temptations,
Do I stand solemnly for what I believe--
The considerately more complicated choice,
Or do I give into evil--
Easily allowing my inner demons to succeed.

Temptations,
Drag my helplessly
Towards the dark options,
Away from what I've always had,
The good, the pure, the light.

Temptations,
Got the best of me.



Temptations,
Made me choose.






Temptations,
Made me...evil.

The Ultimatum

Author’s Note: As frequently displayed throughout the later part of the novel Jekyll and Hyde, we are all enslaved by responsibility. When given the chance to save someone we love dearly, we somehow gather the strength to take that chance in hand, and do as told—even if the request seems terribly dangerous. This motif formed the main idea behind the short story I chose to write. While writing this story, I couldn’t stop, so sorry for the length. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

The day has come—the ultimate test of my strength. My bare toes gripping the gritty edge of the brick wall, I look down. Feeling the cool, harsh wind blow its gusts in my face, taunting and testing me with every blow, I look down. Great fear electrifies my body, leaving me tingle as I quickly steal a glance down—first seeing my shaking legs, then my toes holding on with every last ounce of strength I have, then finally the scene seventy-two stories below. In the busy and noisy streets of Chicago Avenue, blue and red lights flash in the darkness, with ear-splitting sirens howling directly below the ledge on which I stand. Faintly, I hear screaming voices, their shouts of terror getting swept up in the harsh winds.

“Cori, listen to me! Please, oh dear God, PLEASE climb back in that window! Don’t make this mistake, don’t give up the great life you have ahead of you! We all love you, and always will! If you don’t listen, we will never see you again, and you will never see us. Please don’t do this to us. If, if you jump, you will hurt us all, not just yourself. SO, PLEASE CORI, IF YOU HEAR THIS, DON’T JUMP!”

My body weakly convulses, surprisingly in laughter. With great difficulty I think to myself, “They don’t understand. They think I am doing this to bring ultimate happiness for myself, but little do they know. They think I am a selfish brat who would rather kill herself than face her problems, but that’s not it at all. How can they not know? I’ve never once had the thought of suicide cross my brain, and they know that. I guess this situation must seriously confuse, terrify, and depress them. With everything that has happened in our lives the past few months…” Shuddering in guilt, I cut off my train of thought and return to reality, quickly realizing how terrible this looks. If only they knew the half of it…

Squinting my watering eyes, I wrack my brain for the exact wording of the letter. After minutes of deep searching, I remember, remember the life changing words from my sick sister, Riley. To this very minute, the words haunt me, make me rethink this decision, make me scared, yet fearless all at the same time.

Dear Cori,

First of all, I want you to know how much I love you. You are the best older sister anyone could ask for; your strength inspires me, and that is why I decided to write this letter to you. I know this may sound extremely outrageous, but I have a favor to ask of you. Next week, I have my last surgery, the last attempt to save my life, as you know. At 7:35, 10 minutes before I go in for surgery, I want, no, need you to do something. If you do this, I promise you, I will live as healthy as ever, I can’t explain why or how I know this, all I know is that I do. So here is the favor, I need you to stand outside my window of the hospital and jump. Like I said, I know this sounds crazy, but I promise you, you will be save, and I will be cured. I am 100% positive a miracle will happen. We will both live happily, as if nothing bad has ever happened to us. Please take the chance to consider this request. If you don’t fulfill the favor, I will die. Again, I don’t know exactly how, but I will. I know you will do what is in the best t interest for both of us; I trust and love you deeply.

Love, Riley

Never would I have imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that I would be put in this outrageous position. But here I am, ready to jump. I promise myself everything will happen as accordingly, although those arrangements remain a mystery to me. With a screeching noise, my alarm sounds, and my heart skips a beat. The time has come. It is now or ever. Do I jump and risk my life, or do I climb back and risk my sister’s life? So badly do I want to trust her, but I find it so difficult to imagine that somehow, we will both be saved. Folding my hands together, lifting my head up to the dark heavens above, I pray. I pray for my sister’s health, my safety, and my family’s understanding. Struggling to stay balanced, I twist back and glance in the window. I see my sister’s lovely, but sick face reassuring me, “Everything will be okay, I promise. I love you so much, Cori. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” Loosening the grip of the brick under my toes, I lean forward, the wind blowing now harder than ever. Shutting my eyes extremely tight, I extend my arms, and pray once again. I jump.

As Evil Rolls In...

Author's Note: Darkness, and its connection to evil, was constantly portrayed in this section of Jekyll and Hyde, and contrary, light and its connection to good, was also heavily displayed. Along with the chain of events happening, and the times of their occurrence, it is obvious that something mysteriously evil happens at night—especially when dense with fog. To show the duality of dark and light, and evil and good, I decided to, similar to my previous piece, to write a poem with two main sections, clearly explaining the differences between the two.

Fog lifting, and sun rising,
The sky becomes a beautiful hue of blue,
Serving as a loving home to many creatures
As it surrounds the world below,
In a warm, caring embrace...

With a cheerful clack,
Jump ropes repeatedly
Hit the pavement in a rhythmic manner,
Young feet leaping, leaving all worries behind,
Only focusing on the current, blissful feeling.

Children’s laughter fills the air,
Warming the hearts of everyone who hears,
Joining in a joyful game,
All families near come together,
Spreading the needed love.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

As the sun sinks behind the horizon,
The world changes—
The once beautiful and peaceful pink sky,
Home to so much life,
Now remains as a hollow, devilish black shell,
Hovering over the hellish scene below…

With an ear-shattering crack,
Hundreds of bullets shower an innocent home.
Tires screech, attempting to gain grip on the gravel below,
Trying desperately to flee the scene.

High pitch screams fill the air,
Sending terror through neighboring homes
Lifeless in a crimson pool of blood,
Lays the limp body of a young boy,
One with much potential.