Page 2: The Aftermath and Consequences
The second page of the Kamikaze poem analysis PDF focuses on the consequences of the pilot's decision to return and the lasting impact on his family and community.
The poem shifts to memories of the pilot's childhood, emphasizing the connection to his family and traditional way of life. This section uses sensory details to evoke a sense of nostalgia and highlight what the pilot chose to preserve by turning back.
Quote: "grandfather's boat – safe / to the shore, salt-sodden, awash / with cloud-marked mackerel, / black crabs, feathery prawns,"
The listing of sea creatures creates a vivid picture of life and abundance, contrasting sharply with the death and destruction associated with the kamikaze mission.
Highlight: The poem's structure shifts in the final stanzas, moving from third-person to first-person narrative, reflecting the internal conflict and emotional impact of the pilot's decision.
The consequences of the pilot's return are described in stark terms, with his family and community essentially treating him as if he were dead.
Quote: "my mother never spoke again / in his presence, nor did she meet his eyes / and the neighbours too, they treated him / as though he no longer existed,"
This social death is portrayed as potentially worse than physical death, raising questions about the nature of honor, duty, and personal choice in wartime.
The poem concludes with a poignant reflection on the pilot's possible regret:
Quote: "And sometimes, she said, he must have wondered / which had been the better way to die."
This ending encapsulates the central conflict of the Kamikaze poem, leaving readers to contemplate the complex moral and emotional implications of the pilot's decision.
Definition: Ostracism - The act of excluding someone from a society or group.
The Kamikaze poem structure effectively mirrors the psychological journey of the pilot, moving from rigid patriotic expectations to a more fluid, naturalistic perspective, and finally to the harsh reality of social exclusion.
