Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Derek Walcott’s "Hurucan" is a vivid and evocative exploration of the destructive and mythic force of a hurricane. The poem is rooted in the Caribbean’s cultural and natural landscape, blending historical, mythological, and modern elements to depict the raw power of nature while evoking the region’s indigenous past and colonial history. The figure of Huracán, a deity from Taíno mythology associated with storms and chaos, serves as both the literal and symbolic center of the poem. Through rich imagery and cultural references, Walcott examines the hurricane’s impact on the landscape and the people, while also commenting on the deeper forces of history, identity, and survival.

In the first section, the poem opens with the arrival of the hurricane, described through a series of startling, energetic images: "branching light startles the hair of the coconuts" and rain "resonates like pebbles in a pan." This immediacy places the reader in the midst of the storm, with the natural world responding violently to its presence. The "telephone cables hallooing like fingers tapped over an Indian's mouth" is a powerful metaphor that combines the technological with the indigenous, symbolizing both the modern world’s fragility and the silencing of the region’s native history.

Walcott personifies the hurricane as Huracán, an ancient god of the "yellow-skinned ones," referring to the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean. This deity is not easily tamed or forgotten, as Walcott writes, "we doubt that you were ever slain / by the steel Castilian lances." Here, the hurricane becomes a reminder of the survival of indigenous spirits, despite the violence of colonial conquest. The storm’s destruction, especially as it "wrench[es] their nails like freight uncrated with a crowbar," evokes a deeper cultural and historical memory of resilience and survival.

As the hurricane intensifies, it causes a blackout, reverting the "luxury resorts" to primitive conditions: "the spear-tips of candles" and "hysterical lilies" in the swimming pools. The luxury and modernity of these spaces are rendered fragile and powerless in the face of Huracán’s wrath, underscoring the natural world's dominance over human-made structures. The hurricane’s "epicanthic, almond-shaped eye" becomes the symbol of its terrifying gaze, as the "whirling cyclops" moves across the ocean, a god-like figure of power and destruction.

Walcott also critiques the naming conventions used to classify hurricanes, calling attention to the "cute ones christened by radar," which trivializes the storm's magnitude. The real name, Hurucan, demands respect and acknowledgment of its deeper roots in the region’s history and mythology. The hurricane’s rage continues until it "yank[s] the electric wires with wet hands," forcing people to reconsider the forces they face. In a moment of reflection, the storm is seen as "havoc, reminder, ancestor"—a force that ties the present to the past, bringing historical and cultural memory into the present through its destruction.

The second section focuses on the aftermath of the hurricane, when the land and people begin to assess the damage. The sea almond tree, drenched from the storm, serves as a symbol of nature’s endurance, while the freighter stranded on the road emphasizes the storm’s disruption of everyday life. The aftermath is portrayed as a surreal scene of wreckage, with "roofs scattered all over the hillsides / like cards dropped during a shoot-out" and the beach "heaped up like the morning after your dance." These images convey both the chaos of the storm and the way in which its power lingers, even after it has passed.

As the poem progresses, the speaker reflects on the process of returning to normalcy, describing how people begin to "return the pieces of fear / to their proper place," relegating the trauma of the storm to the recesses of memory. The "Carib arrowheads" and "pin-pierced amulets" are artifacts of the region's indigenous past, connecting the present moment to a deeper history of survival and resilience. The hurricane, once a deity whose presence was felt through its violent force, now fades into memory, as "the slow-spinning frigates" serve as a quiet reminder of the storm’s passage.

The final image of "cold sweat" sliding down the "silver hides of the empty planes" in dark hangars evokes a sense of both relief and tension. The planes, grounded and powerless, serve as a metaphor for humanity’s vulnerability in the face of natural forces like Huracán. The poem ends on a note of quiet reflection, as the storm’s name "fades again in the grounded flights," leaving behind the memory of its power but also the realization that such forces are part of the cycle of life in the Caribbean.

In "Hurucan", Walcott masterfully blends natural imagery, mythology, and historical allusion to create a poem that reflects on the power of hurricanes both as physical phenomena and as symbols of cultural memory. Through his vivid descriptions and attention to detail, Walcott captures the sense of awe, fear, and resilience that such storms evoke in the Caribbean, while also reminding the reader of the deeper historical and cultural forces that shape the region’s identity. The hurricane becomes not just a destructive force, but a reminder of survival, of a history that endures despite the violence it has witnessed.

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