on her blindess adam thorpe by Adam Thorpe — Analysis & Translation

Original Poem

on her blindess adam thorpe My mother could not bear being blind, to be honest. One shouldn’t say it. One should hide the fact that catastrophic handicaps are hell; one tends to hear, publicly from those who bear it like a Roman, or somehow find joy in the fight. She turned to me, once, in a Paris restaurant, still not finding the food on the plate with her fork, or not so that it stayed on (try it in a pitch-black room) and whispered, “It’s living hell, to be honest Adam. If I gave up hope of a cure, I’d bump myself off.” I don’t recall what I replied, but it must have been the usual sop, inadequate: the locked-in son. She kept her dignity, though, even when bumping into walls like a dodgem; her sense My mother could not bear being blind, to be honest. One shouldn’t say it. One should hide the fact that catastrophic handicaps are hell; one tends to hear, publicly from those who bear it like a Roman, or somehow find joy in the fight. She turned to me, once, in a Paris restaurant, still not finding the food on the plate with her fork, or not so that it stayed on (try it in a pitch-black room) and whispered, “It’s living hell, to be honest Adam. If I gave up hope of a cure, I’d bump myself off.” I don’t recall what I replied, but it must have been the usual sop, inadequate: the locked-in son. She kept her dignity, though, even when bumping into walls like a dodgem; her sense of direction did not improve, when cast inward. “No built-in compass,” as my father joked. Instead, she pretended to ignore the void, or laughed it off. Or saw things she couldn’t see and smiled, as when the kids would offer the latest drawing, or show her their new toy – so we’d forget, at times, that the long, slow slide had finished in a vision as blank as stone. For instance, she’d continued to drive the old Lanchester long after it was safe down the Berkshire lanes. She’d visit exhibitions, admire films, sink into television while looking the wrong way. Her last week alive (a fortnight back) was golden weather, of course, the autumn trees around the hospital ablaze with colour, the ground royal with leaf-fall. I told her this, forgetting, as she sat too weak to move, staring at nothing. “Oh yes, I know,” she said, “it’s lovely out there.” Dying has made her no more sightless, but now she can’t pretend. Her eyelids were closed in the coffin; it was up to us to believe she was watching, somewhere, in the end

Translation (English)

My mother couldn't stand being blind, really. It's something you shouldn't say. You should hide the fact that terrible disabilities are awful; you usually hear from those who endure it like a Roman, or somehow find happiness in the struggle. She once turned to me, in a Paris restaurant, still unable to find the food on her plate with her fork, or not so that it stayed on (try it in complete darkness) and whispered, "It's a living hell, really Adam. If I lost hope of a cure, I'd end my life." I don't remember what I said, but it must have been the usual comfort, inadequate: the trapped son. She maintained her dignity, though, even when bumping into walls like a bumper car; her sense of direction didn't get better, when focused inward. "No built-in compass," as my father joked. Instead, she pretended to ignore the emptiness, or laughed it off. Or saw things she couldn't see and smiled, like when the kids would give the latest drawing, or show her their new toy – so we'd forget, at times, that the long, slow decline had ended in a vision as blank as stone. For example, she kept driving the old Lanchester long after it was safe down the Berkshire lanes. She'd go to exhibitions, admire films, immerse in television while looking the wrong way. Her last week alive (two weeks ago) had beautiful weather, of course, the autumn trees around the hospital blazing with color, the ground rich with fallen leaves. I told her this, forgetting, as she sat too weak to move, staring at nothing. "Oh yes, I know," she said, "it's lovely out there." Dying hasn't made her any more blind, but now she can't pretend. Her eyelids were closed in the coffin; it was up to us to believe she was watching, somewhere, in the end.

About the Poet

Adam Thorpe (Contemporary)

Adam Thorpe is a British poet and novelist born on December 5, 1956. He is known for his works that include poetry, novels, short stories, and translations. Thorpe frequently contributes reviews and articles to various newspapers and literary journals.

Historical Context

Literary Form: Free verse
When Written: Published in the 21st century
Background: The poem is an autobiographical reflection on the poet's mother's experience with blindness and her eventual death. It explores themes of disability, denial, and the emotional struggles faced by both the individual and their family.

Sources: https://genius.com/Adam-thorpe-on-her-blindness-annotated, https://www.litcharts.com/poetry/adam-thorpe/on-her-blindness, https://poemanalysis.com/adam-thorpe/on-her-blindness/

Detailed Explanation

Adam Thorpe's poem 'On Her Blindness' is a poignant reflection on his mother's struggle with blindness and her eventual death. The poem is deeply personal and autobiographical, capturing the emotional turmoil and denial associated with her condition. Thorpe's mother is portrayed as a dignified woman who, despite her blindness, tries to maintain a semblance of normalcy and humor. The poem reveals the harsh reality of living with a disability, contrasting public perceptions of bravery with the private agony experienced by those affected. The narrative is set against the backdrop of everyday life, with vivid imagery of autumn and familial interactions. The poem's tone is both tender and honest, acknowledging the pain and helplessness felt by both the mother and son. The use of free verse allows Thorpe to convey the raw emotions and fragmented experiences of his mother's life, culminating in a reflection on her death and the enduring hope that she is watching over them from somewhere beyond.

Themes

Literary Devices

Word Dictionary

Word	Meaning	Translation	Transliteration
bear	endure	to tolerate or withstand	bair
catastrophic	disastrous	extremely harmful or damaging	cat-uh-strof-ik
handicaps	disabilities	physical or mental conditions that limit activities	han-di-caps
Roman	stoic	showing endurance and strength like ancient Romans	roh-man
dodgem	bumper car	a small electric car used in amusement parks	doj-em
compass	direction finder	an instrument for determining direction	kum-pas
void	emptiness	a completely empty space	void
Lanchester	car	a type of car	lan-chest-er
Berkshire	place in England	a county in South East England	bark-sheer
fortnight	two weeks	a period of two weeks	fort-night
ablaze	on fire	filled with bright color or light	uh-blayz
royal	majestic	grand or splendid	roy-al
sop	consolation	a small gesture to comfort	sop
pretend	act	to make believe or simulate	pri-tend
vision	sight	the ability to see	vizh-un