Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Mark Strand’s "Here" is a haunting and evocative meditation on abandonment, impermanence, and survival. The poem crafts a vivid image of a desolate town, infused with a quiet tension between decay and endurance. Through Strand’s masterful use of language and imagery, the poem explores themes of solitude, mortality, and the strange comfort found in the mere act of existing.

The poem opens with a scene of diminished vitality: "The sun that silvers all the buildings here / Has slid behind a cloud, and left the once bright air / Something less than blue." This sets the tone for a landscape in transition, where light—often a symbol of life and clarity—is subdued. Yet, paradoxically, "everything is clear." Strand’s juxtaposition of diminished brightness with clarity signals a deeper theme: that in desolation or absence, a kind of stark truth is revealed. The town becomes a mirror for existential contemplation, where emptiness sharpens perception.

Strand’s depiction of the environment deepens the sense of abandonment. The "dead plants dangle down from rooms / Unoccupied for months," and "two empty streets converge / On a central square." These images emphasize neglect and stillness, where once-thriving spaces are now suspended in a state of decay. The tombs on a nearby hill "appear to merge / With houses at the edge of town," blurring the boundary between the living and the dead. This merging of spaces further underscores the poem’s meditation on impermanence, suggesting that life and death are not opposites but part of the same continuum.

The poem is rich with tactile details that evoke the passage of time and the weight of neglect. Dust, a recurring motif, "gathers everywhere—on stools and bottles in the bars, / On shelves and racks of clothing in department stores, / On the blistered dashboards of abandoned cars." The accumulation of dust signals stagnation, yet it also serves as a reminder of time’s relentless progression. The specificity of these details—the bars, department stores, and cars—grounds the poem in a recognizable reality, making the desolation all the more poignant. These are spaces once filled with human activity, now silent and forgotten.

Nature, too, is subdued. The breeze that "stirs up some dust, turns up a page or two, then dies" reflects the fleeting nature of motion and vitality in this town. The leafless trees lining the boulevards further emphasize barrenness, and the absence of dogs, birds, or flies removes even the smallest signs of life. This absence is eerie, creating a sense of isolation that pervades the poem.

The church, with its "massive, rotting doors," becomes a focal point for contemplation. Despite its decay, the church offers a cool refuge, a space for a visitor to "relax, kneel and pray," or simply observe "the dirty light pour through the baldachin." The baldachin, an architectural feature often associated with grandeur and sanctity, is here diminished by "dirty light," suggesting the erosion of spiritual and physical structures alike. Yet, the church remains open, an enduring presence amid the desolation, offering a space for reflection even as the world around it falls into ruin.

The poem takes an unexpected turn with the introduction of a dragon, "curled up before its cave in saurian repose." The dragon, a mythic and timeless figure, contrasts sharply with the mundane decay of the town. Its presence disrupts the stark realism of the poem, introducing an element of fantasy or symbolism. The dragon’s "saurian repose" suggests a creature at peace, unbothered by the desolation around it. This could symbolize endurance, the persistence of something ancient and unchanging in a world marked by transience.

The final line, "And about how good it is to be survived," brings the poem’s themes into sharp focus. Survival, here, is stripped of grandeur or heroism. It is a quiet, almost resigned acknowledgment of existence amid desolation. The phrasing suggests both gratitude and detachment, as though survival itself is enough, even in the face of decay and emptiness. The dragon’s survival, like the church’s endurance, contrasts with the ephemeral nature of human activity, serving as a reminder of what endures beyond individual lives and civilizations.

Structurally, the poem’s free verse allows for an unhurried exploration of its themes, mirroring the stillness and spaciousness of the abandoned town. The steady rhythm of the lines, combined with Strand’s precise yet understated language, creates an atmosphere of quiet reflection. The lack of rhyme or rigid structure emphasizes the poem’s focus on naturalism and realism, even as it ventures into the mythical with the dragon’s appearance.

Here is ultimately a meditation on impermanence and endurance. The abandoned town, with its dust-covered relics and empty streets, serves as a metaphor for the inevitability of decay. Yet within this desolation, there are moments of quiet beauty—the clarity of diminished light, the cool refuge of the church, and the timeless presence of the dragon. Strand invites the reader to contemplate the paradox of existence: that life’s transience is both its tragedy and its wonder, and that survival, in any form, carries its own strange solace. Through its vivid imagery and reflective tone, the poem offers a poignant exploration of what it means to endure in a world defined by change and loss.

Copyright (c) 2025 PoetryExplorer

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...