Wilfred Owen
Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?
Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,
Drooping tongues from jays that slob their relish,
Baring teeth that leer like skulls’ teeth wicked?
Stroke on stroke of pain,- but what slow panic,
Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?
Ever from their hair and through their hands’ palms
Misery swelters. Surely we have perished
Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?
-These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished.
Memory fingers in their hair of murders,
Multitudinous murders they once witnessed.
Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander,
Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.
Always they must see these things and hear them,
Batter of guns and shatter of flying muscles,
Carnage incomparable, and human squander
Rucked too thick for these men’s extrication.
Therefore still their eyeballs shrink tormented
Back into their brains, because on their sense
Sunlight seems a blood-smear; night comes blood-black;
Dawn breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh.
-Thus their heads wear this hilarious, hideous,
Awful falseness of set-smiling corpses.
-Thus their hands are plucking at each other;
Picking at the rope-knouts of their scourging;
Snatching after us who smote them, brother,
Pawing us who dealt them war and madness.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem offers a powerful, haunting portrayal of the psychological scars that war leaves on soldiers. The opening lines immediately immerse the reader in an unsettling atmosphere: the soldiers are not at peace but are instead sitting in twilight, described as “purgatorial shadows.” They rock back and forth, with “drooping tongues” and “teeth that leer like skulls’ teeth wicked,” emphasizing their disconnection from normalcy and their descent into a kind of living hell.
The images of physical decay—such as the “fretted sockets” of their eyes and the misery that pours from their hands—suggest that the men are not just wounded in body but are suffering on a deeper, emotional level. The question of who these men are is central to the poem, as the speaker wonders if they are even still alive or if they are walking in some form of purgatory or hell. This uncertainty about whether they are living or dead adds to the horror and the sense of inescapable suffering that permeates the poem.
The poem moves quickly from describing their physical condition to exploring the psychological torment that they endure. The phrase “These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished” suggests that these men are haunted by the atrocities they have witnessed—murders, bloodshed, and violence. The term “multitudinous murders” is crucial here, as it implies that the soldiers are not just haunted by a single traumatic event but by countless horrors. They are trapped in a state where they cannot escape the images and sounds of war, and they walk through their lives as if wading through a “slough of flesh,” stuck in the aftermath of violence.
The poem also touches on how deeply war affects the senses. The soldiers’ eyes are described as “shrinking tormented back into their brains,” as if the horrors they’ve seen have altered their very perception of reality. Daylight is no longer a sign of hope but a “blood-smear,” and night is described as “blood-black,” reinforcing the idea that the soldiers’ lives are now permanently stained by violence. Even the act of waking up, when the dawn “breaks open like a wound that bleeds afresh,” serves as a reminder of their suffering.
The imagery of “set-smiling corpses” is one of the most striking moments in the poem, as it conveys the eerie contradiction of the soldiers’ condition: they appear outwardly alive, but inwardly, they are deadened by the trauma they carry. Their smiles are no longer expressions of joy or warmth, but masks of a horror that they cannot escape.
The men’s desperate actions—“plucking at each other” and “snatching after us who smote them”—demonstrate the lasting, consuming anger and confusion that soldiers feel after they have been sent to war. They are caught in a cycle of torment, both physically and emotionally scarred by the brutality of their experiences. The use of “brother” at the end of the poem further underscores the tragic irony: the soldiers are pawing at those who sent them to war, those who are complicit in their suffering. It is a futile, desperate gesture, as they cannot escape the war they’ve endured or the madness that it has caused.
In this way, the poem captures the psychological aftermath of war, highlighting the long-term effects it has on those who live through it. It paints a picture of soldiers who are not just physically wounded but psychologically destroyed, trapped in a hell of their own memories. The poem does not offer comfort or redemption; instead, it offers a stark, unflinching look at the consequences of war. The men in the poem are not just victims of physical violence, but of the mental and emotional destruction that war brings, and they will continue to live in that torment long after the fighting ends.