My Depression is Scarier than You, Mother Nature!

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"To scare myself with my own desert places" (16)

            When I first read this poem all I could think about was depression. The phrases "loneliness" (8), "blanker whiteness" (11), "no expression, nothing to express" (12) jumped out at me as signs of inner pain. The quote, "Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast/ In a field I looked into going past" (1-2) especially struck a chord in me. This seemed to be describing someone who had hoped to get through the depression but instead found him or herself becoming too overwhelmed and buried by the pain. Then the speaker goes on to say "And the ground almost covered smooth in snow/ But a few weeds and stubble showing last" (3-4), which only further embellished by interpretation. It seemed as though the speaker felt as if only a small part of him or herself was still able to fight the angst of depression, but was losing the battle to the overwhelming strength of the grief. We have no control over nature's forces, such as, snow storms, cold, heat, etc.; therefore, I found it appropriate that the speaker related his or her pain to being caught in these circumstances. Yes, one could be medicated, go to therapy, or find other methods of help to overcome the depression; however, sometimes the pain is just too much to bear as the speaker seemed to be feeling. When the speaker said, "They cannot scare me with their empty spaces" (13), I took it as meaning the speaker felt his or her own feelings of depression were more frightening than the strength of nature.


Josie Rush said:

Brooke, this is what I thought of the last line, as well. It's also why I found some repetition to be necessary, because the state of mind Frost was describing is more circular than anything: he'd keep coming back to the same thing (in this case, loneliness..empitness...nothingness.) Nice insight.

Brooke Kuehn said:

I actually hadn't thought about the circular like repitition. Its like when you think one negative thought, they keep building and it just gets worse. The poem seems to reflect that with the repitition of thoughts. Good Point

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