Hanging Fire : A Consummation

A hanging fire happens when the fuse of a cannon, or any other firearm, is lit but does not immediately takes off; as if it stops in a second or two before it fully ignites.

From the title in itself, Hanging Fire, it is evident that an African-American Teenage girl (i.e. the narrator) is waiting for the wind to do the job; and that job is to turn her wheel of fortune. She is simply waiting for change to come rather than take the necessary step and start to make a change.

To justify such claim, let me quote a few lines from the poem, there is nothing i want to do and too much that has to be done and momma's in the bedroom with the door closed. These lines imply that although much is expected form her, she still chooses not to take any of it. Though the the door may be closed, she still has the power to open it if she really wishes to. It was not locked, it was just closed and all it takes is initiative but still, she hasn't done any.

Life, often times if not always, provide opportunities to everyone. There may be competition but this so-called rivalry between the others was not made to inhibit but to stimulate.

As for the poem, being an African-American (the persona portrayed by the narrator) should not hinder her from exploring new walks in life, exploring new heights instead, it should be a motivator; that although they are seen as different, they too are capable of making a difference.

AfterThought :The Fury of Overshoes

After a few rereading and a small exchange of views regarding the poem, I could infer that Anne Sexton's The Fury of Overshoes, is a poem that speaks about anger, about wrath.

Not that it is simply limited to the frustrations of a child not being able to have all that he or she longs for but the frustrations of every individual of not achieving their ideal self, the self one is deemed of becoming. This is the major dilemma of a person, to be able to establish one's self, to self-actualize. But unfortunately self-actualization does not just happen through taking giant leaps but instead, it takes small steps. Just as a fertilized egg does not turn into an infant in a wink of an eye, so as an infant would not turn into a kid in a second, no, everything runs smoothly, it runs and undergoes a process of development. And this process often involves stepping into the snow (going above others), feeling cold (solitude, as if the world has turn its back)and getting wet (embracing misfortunes).

Revised Edition (The Cask of Amontillado)

The thousand injuries of Lincoln Burrows I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled -- but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity.

Lincoln Burrows was a family man; a man to be respected and feared and more so, a man to be envied. He was the epitome of perfection; he had undeniably a great physique, has a brilliant educational background, he was a renowned figure (he works as the personal adviser of the Vice President's husband Terrence Steadman), he had thousands of friends, he was stable , he had a happy family and the best wife; name it he has it all.

We have been acquaintances since secondary years. But he was not just like a classmate nor a friend to me for he was more like a brother; the brother I never had. Seeing him being praised everyday increases my feeling of jealousy, how can Lincoln have everything and me left alone with nothing? But thoughts like this was never worthy to be entertained, he was my comrade. The best among my friends, the only friend any one would wish to have. But then he become the man I never thought would turn-out to be my greatest rival. The man I would never want to caught sight, but now, I will be seeing him not just see him but meet with him. The thought! But I had to do it, it was my job to do it and so I will be doing it. Smile and keep it cool, that was what I planned.

"Lincoln, here you are. It's been like years."

"My dearest friend, Terrence Steadman, how could years pass without us meeting each other every once in a while."

"Well, are bounded by our personal responsibilities my friend and we could not just leave those essentials behind."

"Indeed!"

"So, wanna go grab some drink? Anything in particular?"

"I would love to, anything would do."

We had a couple of drinks while talking on issues both our clients had. As representatives of two-opposing parties, we were both tasked to handle things smoothly even before consulting our heads. But then again, private thoughts were never inevitable. After doing our work, we started to talk about our personal
matters. How each of our lives has been running since the past years. And by simply listening to every word he says relives my envious feeling towards him. That feeling of disappointment when he was honored as the valedictorian and I was down next to him. That feeling of hatred when he was the one my every-beloved woman chose to give her big "yes" instead to me. How I wish I was in his shoes. Have the work that I have been wishing. Earn the name I have been dreaming. Meet the woman I have been longing. But I was unlucky, I was unfortunate, not like him, he was lucky and he was fortunate. Though I have been gifted by a good job, this is not what i want. Though I may be married, but she was never the woman I intend to live the rest of my life with. It was never fair enough.

Lincoln is my ego ideal; the man I have always wanted to become but nevertheless, the man I will never be becoming.

As time continues to fly, more talks were made so as more drinks were served. Not only that but more insecurities filled me too. I couldn't help but feel so inferior every time he comes to speak of his achievements in life. More hatred, more grudges. Just as I turned back, everything turned black and there was darkness.

Everything seemed hazy to me after that moment. The only thing that was vivid was that I was already inside the car, with Lincoln right next to me and he was motionless. He wasn't moving much as he was not breathing. How could he not breathe? Was he dead? How could he die? Did I kill him?
How could I kill him? Kill the best among my friends? Impossible, but it felt so real. And as I look again in the passengers' seat, there was Lucas; still motionless. I ran out of the car, tensed and troubled. But how come guilt has not stricken me? What does that supposed to mean?

Instead of further contemplating of whether I really did commit a crime, I began to worry how was I supposed to keep him. And so I dug a large hole right down the family's chapel beside the altar and there I kept Lincoln. And there has he been staying for five decades.

It has been more than half of a century yet still the facade of that memory is just as conspicuous as it had been. How his ever-charming face turned pale after half a minute, the low cry at the back of his throat as he finished the last gulped of the drink that lead him a couple of feet down below our chapel's altar.

Lincoln Burrows.

My good friend.

My great competitor.

My ego ideal.

May you rest in peace.

Dumb Remorse

So when the time rolled around, I went to the depot to pick him up; for undoubtedly, this is the any mean for him to be reaching our house.

It was not such a long drive back home. We had made minute-long converses simply exchanging pleasantries; asking each other how ten long years had gone to fly so fast. And alas, we arrived. I parked the car, got out from it and opened the other side for him. Seeing him managed to get out from the car carrying his suitcases, a repressed thought emerged from my unconscious state of mind. But I didn't quite entertained the thought, I didn't feel the need of entertaining a single of it. And so I shut the door, moved him with me down the drive and up to the steps, to the front porch then to the door. And there was my husband, Lucas, waiting. I introduced Robert to my husband and likewise, he introduced himself to him.

Heading towards the sofa, we had made little chats and in between these small talks, I began to notice Lucas' strange actions. He was being rude, and it was evident. Asking which side of the train where a blind man would sit is certainly being rude. What a question which side! I mean would it matter which side? Would it concern a blind which side he'd be sitting on the train? He definitely needs to be reprimanded, well maybe later.

When we sat down at the table for dinner, we had another drink. I heaped Robert's plate with cube steak, scalloped potatoes and green beans as my husband buttered him up two slices of bread. We dug in. Ate everything that was to eat on the table. We ate like there was no tomorrow, we didn't talk. We ate, scar fed. We grazed the table. We were into a serious eating. We finished everything, including half a strawberry pie. For a few moments, we sat as if stunned, sweat beaded on our faces. Finally, we got up from the table and left the dirty plates. We didn't look back.

We took ourselves into the living room and I settled myself, so did Robert, on the sofa. We had ourselves three more drinks while talking about the major things that had come to pass for the past ten years. My husband made efforts to join in our conversation, as if prepared to answer any of Robert's queries that concern him. But unluckily, we were too engrossed to talk among ourselves and never bothered to include him in our dialogue. I guess that left him pissed-off and so he then decided to interrupt us by turning on the television. From the moment the TV come to life, irritation filled me. It made me uncomfortable, leaving my head boiling. Why on Earth would he turn on the TV when we were actually in the brink of serious talking? And for goodness' sake, we were with a blind man! He wouldn't appreciate the thought, of course, he would not. Strike 2: first, he asked for his position in the train and now, turning on the TV. One more strike and he'll surely be off the hook.

So to lighten the tension that was gradually increasing between me and my husband, I decided to leave them first and change my worn-out jeans and shirt. As i reached the room, I began to think of those thoughts that continues to trouble me as I caught sight again of Robert. Seeing how he tries to act as normal as possible reminded me of those days when I was in his shoes'; when I too was deprived with a sense of sight. I know how it is to be blind like him. It was difficult, very difficult. Seing everything in shades of black, forever wondering how blue the sky is and how green the leaves are. The thought of it alone send shivers to my optic nerves, leaving my eyes with salty tears. I would never want to be in that same situation ever again, and as much as I would not want to be in that same experience, seeing Robert struggle relives those moments.

My long, long buried past justifies my being so-concern towards people like Robert. Well, that is the least that I could do; show sympathy and feeling for them. It takes away the guilt, and thus, helps me move out from the shadow of my past, form the past that for so long has haunted me. But then, running away from a dark past would never end it, facing it though would certainly do. And yes, I will face it, face it this time for the truth would surely find its way out to be known. Not only that but to continuously lie to the man I love is one thing that I could not afford to do. We vowed to be with each other 'til death but how could he be with me all through out when even telling him a secret I could not do? This can't be, he has to know. Who knows, this might enlighten him and so he would understand why I am being so overly good towards Robert. So for now, I have to leave Lucas first with his prejudices, but I too would make sure that Robert's comfort would not be at stake.They are both my significant others, especially Lucas, he is my other half. So it is just but proper that I'll confess to him everything, and I would in due time.

And after such a long self-reflection, I decided to join them in their cannabis' session, I could smell it. I sat on the sofa, between them, took it and tossed, yawned then drown myself to sleep. I had trouble staying asleep cause things don't seem right as I was sleeping, Robert and Lucas spending the time together? So I woke from the nap, and there I saw the two of them working on something. I gave them an anguish look as if saying that they need to tell me what they were up to. But they did not say anything, they simply stared blankly. What i remembered though was Robert mentioning about a Cathedral or something like it!