Genre Blog Post 2: Lady Lazarus

            For this blog post, I am going to be analyzing the poem Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath, and focus on the theme of death.

            Death is a very prominent theme in this poem. Several times it is mentioned, but the line “Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.” (Plath, Lines 43-45, Page 1419) I think this sums up the poem very well for just two sentences. I literally felt my heart drop when I read this line because it was just so powerful. “Dying Is an art,” is a great line in itself. It alludes that death isn’t involuntary for this narrator, but more of a goal. It also suggests that while many people think of death as a one-time thing, the narrator has already escaped death twice, according to this poem, so for them it’s probably more like a game or a hobby. One would think that dying wouldn’t be that hard, in some cases it can be quick and painless. But for our narrator, they’ve already escaped death twice. “The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant to last it out and not come back at all.” (Plath, Lines 35-38). Obviously, our narrator wants to die, because they write, “There is a charge for the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge for the hearing of my heart- It really goes.” (Plath, Lines 57-60) and they’re truly unhappy in their life. For them, their goal is to die. But so far, that has been unachievable. According to Dictionary.com, art is defined as “The quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.” For our narrator, death is something they haven’t been able to achieve, but they find it as their own type of expression of what is appealing, and it’s certainly has more than ordinary significance. So I believe, for our narrator, “Dying is an art” is a symbol of their goals, and almost like their final “masterpiece.”

            Everyone has had to deal with death in their lives in one way or another. And if you haven’t yet, you’re very lucky, but it will come. Whether your first death was your childhood hamster dying, or your grandma, or maybe even someone closer to you, it’s never easy. I’ve had my grandpa, my great-grandma, and my aunt pass away. A teacher whom I was close with also passed away from cancer, and the neighbor I used to babysit for committed suicide. A girl in my grade passed away at the age of 14. I didn’t even know her that well, but her passing really messed me up, because it forced my little 14 year old mind to consider how short life really is. I myself have struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts before, so it was very easy for me to relate to this poem. While I am in a better place in my life now, the memories of my “bad times” still do haunt me, and always will. But the ending stanza is where I can relate to this poem the most, “Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.” (Plath, Lines 82-84). Not particularly the eating men part, because I’ve never eaten a man before, but more the part of rising out of ashes. Depression is an unruly, uncontrollable, relentless thing to cope with. But eventually, one day you’ll wake up feeling like you have a purpose again, and it truly does feel like you’re a phoenix, rising from your own mistakes and hardships into something beautiful and powerful.