"A Birthday Present" by Sylvia Plath
Hello.
I came across an article on Brain Pickings today. It is a reading of Sylvia Plath's "A Birthday Present", read by none other than the poet herself.
This is my first encounter with the poem and it shook my core. It is powerful, potent, and provocative.
I have always believed, or might be conditioned to believe, that birthdays are meant to be a day of glad tidings and to celebrate another year of successful survival. It is a joyous occasion and everyone is happy for you, as you are happy for yourself. Yes, there may be naysayers who detest birthdays and never celebrates it, as it reminds them of their age and their impending old age.
But to equate the anniversary of your birth to your demise? To actually wish for death as a birthday present, that is taking it to a whole new level. The last three lines terrifies me. So beautiful (yes, beautiful) in its poetic, evoking such a strong electrifying imagery with the comparison of a knife-to-flesh entrance to the cries of a baby, "pure and clean".
Combined with her unyielding voice, which seems to be almost taking pleasure in the thought of death becoming her, the poem will send a few shivers down your spine.
Somehow it reminds me of the frailty of the mind and the fragility of life, and the strength of those who survives.
Here is the link again: "A Birthday Present" by Sylvia Plath at Brain Pickings. You must must MUST listen to the audio while reading it.
I came across an article on Brain Pickings today. It is a reading of Sylvia Plath's "A Birthday Present", read by none other than the poet herself.
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This is my first encounter with the poem and it shook my core. It is powerful, potent, and provocative.
I have always believed, or might be conditioned to believe, that birthdays are meant to be a day of glad tidings and to celebrate another year of successful survival. It is a joyous occasion and everyone is happy for you, as you are happy for yourself. Yes, there may be naysayers who detest birthdays and never celebrates it, as it reminds them of their age and their impending old age.
But to equate the anniversary of your birth to your demise? To actually wish for death as a birthday present, that is taking it to a whole new level. The last three lines terrifies me. So beautiful (yes, beautiful) in its poetic, evoking such a strong electrifying imagery with the comparison of a knife-to-flesh entrance to the cries of a baby, "pure and clean".
Combined with her unyielding voice, which seems to be almost taking pleasure in the thought of death becoming her, the poem will send a few shivers down your spine.
Somehow it reminds me of the frailty of the mind and the fragility of life, and the strength of those who survives.
Here is the link again: "A Birthday Present" by Sylvia Plath at Brain Pickings. You must must MUST listen to the audio while reading it.
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