The poem that was IT

10th grade had officially begun. The year that mattered the most, the year that was supposed to be the first stepping stone of a teenager’s life. By now, everyone was immersed in the idea of choosing a career, finally getting rid of subjects that they had no interest in and more precisely, the subjects that did not matter to them. My friends had made uo their minds and I was still stuck on what to do next. In a city that apnly valued the stream of science and offered only the choice between biology and mathematics, I had to make up my mind upon a profession that would entail either of these.

One early morning literature period, Sir came in with the text and announced “Today we shall read the poem ‘Cold Within’ by James Patrick Kenney”
I turned to the designated page and read,

“Six humans trapped by happenstance
In bleak and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story’s told.
Their dying fire in need of logs
The first one held his back
For of the faces around the fire
He noticed one was black
The next man looking acroos the way
saw one not of his church
and couldn’t bring himself to guve
the fire his stick of birch
the third one sat in tattered clothes
he gabe his cost a hitch
why should his log be put to use
to warm the idle rich?
The rich man just sat back
and thought of the wealth he had in store
And how to keep what he had earned
from the lazy shiftless poor
the black mam’s face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight
all he saw in his stick of wood
was the chance to spite the white
The last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain
giving only to those who gave
was how he played the game
Their logs held tight in deaths still hand
was proof of human sin
they sis not die feom cold without
they died feom cold within”

As I finished reading, I felt my arms covered in goosebumps. The poem in my vision was deeply reflective, a piece of literature that was simple to read, reached the audience, addressed a wide range of discrimination, was lyrical enough to appeal to my aesthetic value and provoked thought within one.
Sir began with his analysis. He asked questions as to what was the major concern of the poem and we rightly identified it yo be lavk of kindness in the world due to discrimination.
He then told us how the six men stand for a metaphor of the entire world and century. What strikes my interest mostly was the fact that the atmosphere, of cold weather, reflected not only what was within these men but was also anticipatory of the Death that was to come to them. Cold, Dim, Hate, Night and Death, all going hand in hand was one thing that was an understood fact in Literature.
For some reason, I thought it was common knowledge and wondered why sir was underlying something so simple and known, until my friends noted this down and expressed kack of understanding over this.
This was when i understood that literature was within my understanding and not only my passion but also my temperament.