Death is a New Beginning Essay -- Literary Analysis, Emily Dickinson

Death is a New Beginning Death is like two paths on a trail. Some see it as the end of the road while others see it as a beginning of a new adventure. In the poems â€Å"Because I Could Not Stop for Death† by Emily Dickinson and â€Å"Crossing the Bar† by Alfred Lord Tennyson, both authors choose to view death as a new journey rather than an ending. In the poem, â€Å"Because I Could Not Stop for Death† the author portrays the expedition of death as a gentle carriage ride throughout the entire poem where â€Å"Death† is personified as a gentleman caller and Immortality acts as the speakers chaperone on this voyage. The carriage takes the speaker on a ride from her childhood to her grave and beyond. Similarly, in â€Å"Crossing the Bar† Tennyson describes death as a journey through picturing death as a ride out to sea. Through choice of image both authors portray their vision that death is a journey and that death should not be feared. Finally, though death is not to be f eared, both speakers regard it from very different points of view. The person speaking in Tennyson’s poem is still alive; he is an old man waiting to die. In contrast, Dickinson’s speaker is a young woman who is surprised by death. In short, death is for both seen as an exciting new adventure. The first instance where it is evident that the authors are of the opinion that death should not be feared but rather to embrace the expedition is proven by the ways in which both authors use diction. In the first poem â€Å"Because I Could Not Stop for Death† the poem talks about the gentle ride that the person is experiencing. ...w he will be â€Å"putting out to sea†. In sum, each different speaker has their own respective point of view on dying such as Dickinson’s character did not know that death was going to come so soon. In contrary, Tennyson’s character was very aware that his time was on earth coming to an end. Although both authors have different points of view, both authors feel the same about death, as they both see death as a new expedition. In Conclusion, death is seen for both a new expedition. Dickinson’s voyage is going on a carriage ride with Death and Immortality guiding her to â€Å"eternity†. Tennyson’s adventure however is represented through crossing the sandbar into the large ocean. These poems are both reassuring and comforting for the readers to help themselves understand that death should not be feared but rather to think of death as a new beginning rather than an ending.

Vacant Chapter 6 Surprises

After four months, I continue to be astonished by what Emily can do with a dented, often label-less, can. She says it's all the Julia Child reruns on PBS, but I don't care who's to credit. Dinner is on the table every night with mismatched plates and silverware, and our economy paper towels are always folded into decorative shapes. It hasn't escaped my notice at how much I enjoy seeing our laundry mingled together, either. The bottom line for me is that she makes even this place seem like home. After Emily agreed to move in with me – which was no small feat – it took a month until she stopped knocking, then cracking the door and yelling, â€Å"Ethan?† before she would enter through the front door. It was as if she thought I would get mad if she didn't practice her self- imposed ritual. While her discomfort with calling this her home still lingers, it's just the tip of the iceberg concerning our†¦ issues. Initially, she'd been particularly insistent about getting a job and wanting to help financially. I hadn't argued, thinking she was nearly done, if not completely finished, with school. I hadn't bother to ask what her status was, figuring she was old enough to make that decision herself. So, it was with eagerness that I helped her look for a job. One roadblock was her lack of identification. Employers want an ID, but of course, Emily didn't have any. We spent an entire day at City Hall getting the required documentation and social security card, so we could then go to the DMV. That was the day I found out she was barely old enough for a driver's permit – let alone a driver's license. Emily insisted she was nearly eighteen when we met, but I found out she wasn't even close. Shock didn't even begin to explain what I felt at the revelation of her real age. She hadn't lied about when her birthday was; it was a month after she moved in, as she'd first said. However, she was turning sixteen, not eighteen. While I was monumentally upset by her deception, I got it. She was living with the fear of being herded into a state system that could feel like you were being fed to the wolves. I couldn't really blame her. After I got over my initial anger about her lie and the additional guilt of some of the inappropriate things I may have fantasized about her, I realized Emily missed the milestone of sweet sixteen. I remembered a co-worker talking about her sister's sixteenth birthday and the excitement that went along with the momentous occasion. Emily insisted she didn't want anything special and maintained that by finding me, she'd already received more than she ever hoped for after her mother's passing. The celebratory sad-assed cookie I had on my twenty-first birthday came to mind. I instantly knew it wasn't good enough for Emily, so I went into work and ordered the most extravagant and girly cake our bakery had – regardless of the fact it was almost forty bucks, my usual weekly food budget. Her reaction to the cake was like a kick to the stomach. When I brought it home, Emily cried, explaining that even her mother had never gotten her a cake since cake wasn't something you buy on a stric t budget. That was the moment I decided Emily would never go without again. Knowing that cake was so special made it all the more enjoyable when I ate it every meal the week that followed. â€Å"Ethan, go wash your hands please. Dinner is ready.† It never fails. The girl can literally watch me walk from the bathroom, knowing I've just scrubbed up, but she will still tell me to wash again, and I will. I know that she's tied to the routine, not really the cleanliness factor. Many who have been in a homeless situation will cling to routines for the comfort and solace they bring. We sit and eat in silence for the first few minutes of the meal. It's always balanced, particularly since she's taking a health class this semester and preaches the benefits of healthy eating habits and exercise. Sometimes it makes me laugh because she sounds just like one of those infomercials she occasionally watches in the middle of the night after she's had a bad dream. There are times I think it's more than just nightmares, though, when she wakes at night. She carries a lot of guilt around with her given our situation. Emily feels like she should contribute to the household with money. I feel like she needs to be in school, getting an education. Even though legally she could drop out, I'm constantly reiterating that school is her job, and there will be plenty of time for her to contribute in the future when she's a full-fledged taxpayer. â€Å"Hey, Ethan?† Emily asks cautiously, while pushing her cube steak around on the plate. I'm a bit nervous since she says it with hesitance. She hardly asks for anything, and when she does, she makes it seem like she's about to ask for a million dollars, but it's usually something small and relatively insignificant. This time, though, the accompanying look on her face indicates this isn't simple. I put my fork down and look up, giving her my full attention. â€Å"So, Christmas is coming.† I inwardly groan, not because she's brought it up, but because I participate in as little of the Holiday Cheer as possible. It's been awhile since I've celebrated the birth of Christ, mainly because I don't believe in God. Realistically, I see the holiday as an opportunity to earn extra money as I work all the shifts so everyone else can spend time with their families. I try to dislodge my anxiety about the topic but it doesn't work. The holidays are about commercialism and consumerism. Plus, I can't afford to buy gifts. â€Å"Yeah, I usually work Christmas. I get double time.† My dinner still sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. I know I should give her a special day. â€Å"Oh.† Now I feel like a jerk who's robbed her of the magic of Christmas. â€Å"Like all day or just part?† â€Å"The store is open from seven until two, then closing early.† I know why she's asking, but it doesn't keep me from playing stupid. â€Å"Why? What's up?† Emily finally stops pushing her battered piece of meat around on the plate and looks up. â€Å"I was thinking†¦and you don't have to†¦it's just something that†¦I mean, you can, but if it makes you uncomfortable†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I finally stop her rambling by touching her hand. My hope is that she will refocus her thoughts with my unexpected gesture. I'm successful. Emily sits up a little straighter, squares her shoulders, and wipes her mouth with her paper towel-slash-napkin. â€Å"I want to spend Christmas at the shelter. You know†¦it's the last place I was with my mom.†

The Martin Luther King Jr. - 1428 Words

Martin Luther King Jr. once said A riot is the language of the unheard. The Oka Confrontation, commonly known as the Oka Crisis, is yet another hardship faced and is continuing to be faced by Native Canadians. Specifically, the Mohawk. First Nations were always treated like second class citizens in North America. When their land rights were threatened, they decided that enough was enough and that they were not going to accept this anymore. It was about time they were respected. The Oka Crisis was part of the revolution of the First Nations as Canadians and as equals. They were not going to be pushed around anymore and accept what the white people laid out in front of them, they were there to make their own decisions and keep what is rightfully theirs. After years of oppression, this was the last straw. The Oka Crisis lasted 78 days (July 11th - 26th of September 1990). It took place in the town of Oka, Quebec. What sparked the protesting was none other than the white man yet again trying to cheat First Nation s people out of their land. One might think Man, that is some 18th century jazz, but the truth is that this happened just 25 years ago. As if they have not stolen enough, in 1961, a golf course was built on top of the claimed land of the Mohawks, containing a burial ground. There was protesting against this golf course, and of course, they were not listened to, and the golf course plans proceeded. To make matters worse, in 1989, mayor Jean Ouellette of OkaShow MoreRelatedMartin Luther King Jr.867 Words   |  4 Pagespeople, one of them is Martin Luther King Jr. He made the world a better place for black citizens by doing non-violence movements and marched the way to freedom. Martin Luther King Jr. was born on January 15, 1929, in Atlanta Georgia as Michael King Jr., but changed his name to Martin Luther King Jr. in honor of Protestant Martin Luther. 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