Strange meeting - Wilfred Owen
It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,—
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
“None,” said that other, “save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
“I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now. . . .”
Description of the poem
Strange Meeting was written in 1918 and stands at the forefront of Owen’s achievements.
The quote, ‘I am the enemy you killed my friend’ is to be found on Owen’s memorial in Shrewsbury.
The poem is themed on war.
Although the end of the war had seemed no more in sight, scholars assumed that.
Neither side had enmity with each other, at least not the soldiers.
The title it seems Owen had taken from Shelley’s book, ‘THE REVOLT OF ISLAM’
Here Shelley tells about a soldier who escapes, reaches hell, and meets his enemy there.
For Owen soldier meant war here the soldier escapes the battle down to the tunnel.
The tunnel is full of soldiers lying dead.
The ‘encumbered sleepers’ implies a peaceful passion.
The poet wakes up one of the sleepers. Owen normally wrote about injuries
But in this poem, there is no bloodshed
strange meeting is one of the most silent poems of Owen
There are no hunting guns, no silence of the dead
But still, this is a war poem
In the third stanza, we got to know about the loss that the soldier's feet.
He knew very well, there is no glory in dying
Only ‘pity of war’ and pity is the emotion that is most acutely felt in the stanza.
In the last stanza, the speaker admits to the listeners that he is the” enemy you killed my
Friend “They recognize each other
There is no animosity on either side, though they were from two different groups.
It seems all the anger, venom and violence was last with war
In keat sion mood, the poem ends where the poet invites his companion to sleep with him
Both have died, and they forget everything
They know that war solves no problem
Nothing can be resolved war carries on and the people will continue to die.
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