War Photographer

In his dark room he is finally alone with spools of suffering set out in ordered rows. The only light is red and softly glows, as though this were a church and he a priest preparing to intone a Mass. Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. All flesh in grass.

He has a job to do. Solutions slop in trays beneath his hands which did not tremble then though seem to now. Rural England. Home again to ordinary pain which simple weather can dispel, to fields which dont explode beneath the feet of running children in a nightmare heat.

Something is happening. A strangers features faintly start to twist before his eyes, a half-formed ghost. He remembers the cries of this mans wife, how he sought approval without words to do what someone must and how the blood stained into foreign dust.

A hundred agonies in black-and-white from which his editor will pick out five or six for Sundays supplement. The readers eyeballs prick with tears between the bath and the pre-lunch beers. From the aeroplane he stares impassively at where he earns his living and they do not care. Carol Ann Duffy

War is delightful to those who have yet to experience it. To those who have, their lives would never be the same again. Wars do not just take away peoples lives, but much greedier than that. A war destroys a persons fledgling soul into remnants of darkness and fear, which will haunt him until his last breath. In this poem, the main character, a surviving war photographer, comes back from the battlefield with burdens of scarring terror. It seems as if his innocence has been shattered during those raging days. He comes back with a hollow soul, haunted with images of the deceased. As the main theme of the poem, the scarring effects of war are directly addressed to the readers through the employment of diction, metaphors and sound devices. Throughout the poem, the photographer feels a self-conscience raging within. He seems to reproach himself, condemning his job and those people who do not pay the least regard for the unfortunate who perished in the war. This is highlighted in the last few lines. From the aeroplane he stares impassively at where/ he earns his living and they do not care. He seems to criticize his own profession- he makes his living where people die. Moreover, the last few words bottle up his condemnation towards the ignorant public, who heartlessly disregards the brutal massacre of war. The poems tone is deeply melancholic. This woeful tone is aroused right from the beginning of the text when the poet uses words such as darkroom, alone and suffering to create the setting for the poem. It also conveys the sense of self-conscience, which would be present in the second and third stanza. In the second and the third stanza, the sad mood is enhanced by the terrifying flashback of the photographer. In these two stanzas, a sympathetic tone is used, showing the mans strong conscience. However, in the last stanza, the tone becomes somewhat sarcastic. This can be sensed in the two lines: The readers eyeballs prick with tears between the bath and the pre-lunch beers. Perhaps, the photographer believes that his photos will not evoke feelings or thoughts. People will simply go on with their lives. A critical tone is present in only last few words and they do not care, which adds bitterness to the photographers criticism. The poems diction conveys the characters complexity of woe, terror and condemnation. In the first stanza, the light is described as red and softly glows. This relates to the colour blood and war, which evokes violence and deaths. This enhances the setting of the darkroom and the loneliness of the war photographer. The photographer seems to utter with pain these places where bombs were rampant Belfast. Beirut. Phnom Penh. The next sentence All flesh in grass. seems to pierce the mans conscience as it reminds him of how peaceful and lively these places once were. In the second stanza, he calls out Rural England. Home again with relief, which deeply contrasts the way he utters those locations in the first stanza. However, his relief is short-lived as he is reminded of the terror of the battlefield pain which simple weather can heal, fields which dont explode.... In the third stanza, fear seems to overwhelm the photographers sentiments. With sudden fright, he utters Something is happening. The description of A strangers features faintly twist before his eyes evokes terror. It also provokes our imagination of the painful and uneasy death of the man mentioned in the third stanza. The word stained is used, showing the haunting image of blood in the mans mind. It seems as if blood has imprinted into the war ground and can never be washed away ever again. In the last line, deep irony is provoked. The photographer says that where he makes his living is where other people die, as if he is making money from the deaths of others. Self-conscience seems to reach its climax in this line as the photographer reproaches himself. However, in the next few words, the target of his criticism switches to they. It is not clear who are they he is mentioning. Perhaps, in linking with the readers in the same stanza, he is probably implying the ignorant public, those who knowingly ignores the brutality rampaging in wars.

There is one significant metaphor in this poem: a priest preparing to intone a Mass. Perhaps, by reminding us of the Mass, the photographer seems to imply the crime and inhuman massacre of wars. Throughout the poem, a complexity of the characters insights is conveyed to the readers. We actually feel sympathy for him as he is bound to witness mounting terror in wars: deaths, bombs and so on. On the other hand, we can feel a growing condemnation within, targeting at those people who enkindle wars, for their mere good.