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It seemed that out of the 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 the 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 has 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 …

The end really shocked me to think that he died in combat. Personally, I do not believe in wars or support them. It truly saddens me to think of how many people have died in all of these wars. Unfortunately, what hurts the most is that it still takes place in our present. Furthermore, what I really enjoyed from the video was that it provided that extra imagery that you would need to comprehend what occurs in a war setting. Additionally, it also makes you understand the whole emphasis of the poem; which is Wilfred Owen encountering the enemy after the battle. It all of a sudden become an awkward meeting in the afterlife with the soldier that killed him.

It is quite interesting, “the whole dilemma”. In the video they both circle each other, almost as if they were still alive and waiting to see who attacks who. However, they seem to understand that they are no longer on the battlefield and they both go their separate ways to finally rest. As Owen said: “Let us sleep now”. It is quite odd to read this poem after acknowledging that Owen passed away and died on the battlefield. Who knows if he predicted that this would have happened? If so, why did he not leave? So many questions and not that many answers…

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