First symbol: the forking road. This is described at the very top of this specific passage. Rather than continue down the paved highway, Hazel Motes opted to take the dirt road in his truck. Page 118: “The highway forked off onto a clay road and he turned onto it. It was hilly and shady and the country showed to advantage on either side. One side was dense honeysuckle and the other was open and slanted down to a telescoped view of the city. The white cloud was directly in front of them.” In Haze’s decision to go down this more beaten path, he seems to be choosing country over city, undeveloped over modernized, natural over manmade – perhaps this argument could extend to him choosing God over nothing, God being that peaceful countryside and no belief being the empty highway. Of course, that country detour isn’t entirely peaceful, the silence he seems to be searching for interrupted by Sabbath Hawks’s insistent presence. There’s also the cliché of the forked road being indicative of someone making an important decision, facing two consequences – for Hazel, those consequences come to be life/death, although they could be a faithful life/an unfaithful one. Essentially, this forked road that Hazel faces is representative of a lot more than the simple highway-or-dirt-road decision it appears to be on the surface level.

Second symbol: the caged bear and chicken hawk. “Two deadly enemies. Have a look free.” It’s a sideshow attraction that “Haze had not noticed… until [Sabbath Hawks] came up,” and O’Connor carefully chose its contents to be representative. But what could the bear and chicken hawk represent? “Most of the hawk’s tail was gone; the bear had only one eye.” These animals have been confined to a cage to fight one another, and could stand for a number of things. My first thought was – the bear must be Hazel and the hawk must be Enoch. Hazel, with his lack of sight (faith), could be the bear, an animal known for its defensiveness and independent nature; Enoch, with his birdlike fascination with Haze, the Hawks family, the mummy, the gorilla, etc. (essentially, a fascination with trying to find himself and his “calling”), seems to fit the image of a pesky chicken hawk just fine. Their rivalry as characters in the story also supports their bear/hawk roles. Another potential explanation for this symbol is that the bear represents the cynic and the bird represents the faithful – keeping in mind that the bear tore out the bird’s tail feathers (needed to fly) and the bird tore out the bear’s eye (needed to see/believe), the bear could stand for the pessimistic non-believers on earth while the bird could stand for the more righteous believers who will ascend to heaven. Lastly, these two animals could even symbolize the devil and God (the bear and the chicken hawk, respectively). God is perched high above everything else in heaven; the missing tail could be indicative of the relationship between God and the devil, since the devil was once an angel that God had to cast down so that injured tail could actually be God's injured bond with the devil himself. The devil, sentenced to the underworld (the bottom of the cage), is blinded by hatred and sin, as the bear is in this symbol.

In these pages, I think it's most important to keep in mind the idea of symbolism, as well as the intentional inclusion of animals and animal imagery. As Professor Ellis said, O’Connor uses so much symbolism in her writing, especially animalistic symbolism in this novel, and in this passage, there are several symbols that could stand for any number of things. There are two major symbols that I'd like to focus on: the forked road and the caged bear/hawk. Additionally, the symbol of Hazel's car comes into play.

If we want to delve even further into this passage’s specific symbols, we can examine the Essex, Hazel’s car, which is another interesting representation as it is broken down at the end of that dirt road prior to this passage. The truck is practically the embodiment of Hazel himself – beaten, broken, barely operational. It can also be argued that the Essex is a symbol for Hazel’s faith, which is equally damaged; in this take, the argument is further supported by the pivotal moment when (SPOILER) the policeman pushes Hazel’s car over the ridge, destroying it and his only means of independence and travel – as Hazel believes, “Nobody with a good car needed to worry about anything.” But once that disgusting truck of his is permanently done for, Hazel reaches a breaking point, tumbling down for the rest of the novel to a sad and punishing end. That climactic moment with the cop and the car (further on in the story, and, admittedly, not specific to this passage, but still!) suggests that the Essex may truly stand for Hazel’s faith, and maybe even his reason for living. A few sentences before my passage, the Essex isn't working as Hazel tries to flee from Sabbath Hawks and her unwanted attention; several sentences after my passage, the mechanic fixes the truck for Hazel, restoring his independence.

The symbol of the bear just screams HAZEL to me. It is despondent, mistreated, and partially blinded, qualities Hazel displays throughout the novel. Other shared traits, just from this brief passage of the bear, include the aggressor role typical of bears (and in the novel, of Hazel, too) as well as the mutual darkness of their fur/hair, their "caged" lifestyles (the bear is literally in a cage while Hazel seems ready to leap out of his own skin throughout the entire novel, trapped by his own inner demons), and the positioning in this cage, with the bird (Enoch/believers) up top (heaven) and the bear (Hazel/nonbelievers) below (hell). In this single image of these caged creatures, we're given a glimpse of such stark parallels between man and animal, characteristic of Wise Blood as a whole.

The notion that this bear and chicken hawk are such gruesome enemies also supports the potential targets of O'Connor's symbolism -- Hazel and Enoch? Cynics and believers? There are tons of potential puzzle pieces to fit together here. That "ENEMIES" disclaimer, in all caps, really hammers home the idea that the bear and hawk, despite being forced to share a space, have torn each other apart, instincts conquering comfort in their inhumane, caged existences.

Really speaks to the focus he has when set on a task; in this case, he was searching for help with his truck, and that search blinds him from his actual surroundings. Basically, it's pretty tough to completely miss a giant cage filled with exotic animals next to a countryside gas station, but Hazel does because he is hellbent on fixing the current problem. Ironically, his desire to "fix" things as he sees fit becomes his problem: needing to preach his own beliefs to the public, treating people like Sabbath and Enoch cruelly in an attempt to distance himself from others, etc. - all efforts that contribute to his downfall in the end, unable to recover from the mess he's made in his dire need to understand life through a very specific yet problematic lens.

This image also struck me in how isolated and, as O'Connor says, deserted this gas station area is. The place Hazel goes to for help seems devoid of any, at first. The additional creep factor of the caged animals made this pit stop extremely memorable.

Interesting that the full caps don't occur until the mentioning of DEADLY ENEMIES.

Rhyme scheme is as follows:

Stanza 1 = A B C B

Stanza 2 = D E F E

Stanza 3 = G H I H/

Stanza 4 = J K L K/

The first two stanzas flow together rhythmically quite easily while the second two feature more slant rhyme; it's like the introduction of the "Horror" and "fear" in stanzas three and four literally shook the writer.

That darkness being the loneliness, of course.

That loneliness has accelerated to HORROR! The speaker doesn't seem to be hyperbolizing any of this, either. Capital H for Holy-cow-I'm-so-dang-lonely. It's a pervasive fear for the speaker.

Here, the definition of "plumbing" appears to be "to measure the depth of something" using that lead weight tool, a plumb. Lead, being extremely heavy, is an interesting symbol if this is the way Dickinson intended it to be read. Heavy burden of loneliness.

The final stanza, I believe, is especially significant. The first and only "I" is revealed and is revealed as being afraid, loneliness is given the title of "Maker of the soul," and in the last lines, there is finally some wiggle room that enables a person to emerge from the "Caverns" and "Corridors" of loneliness as illuminated. While the whole poem's tone is mostly dark, the last line insinuates that there is some hope: loneliness can feel all-consuming at times, but it challenges a person to dig deep and strengthen themselves in that solitary state, the silver lining in an otherwise dark experience.

That tomb imagery from the first stanza reasserts itself. In this final line, the speaker appears to offer an option: loneliness can "illuminate" (or maybe "bring out of obscurity," as the Lexicon can define it, which, when applied, could suggest that the speaker has come to view loneliness as a trial "One" can make his/her way through and survive, coming out stronger on the other side) or loneliness can "seal" (entomb, "secure from outside influences" as the Lexicon can define it, meaning that a person could be completely overwhelmed by loneliness without a chance of escaping it).

Caverns: a formation occurring in nature; vast. "Deep, dark subterranean space" or "void, vacancy, emptiness." Corridors: hallways, manmade. "Long passage in a building... connecting rooms in a house." These alliterative terms contrast each other in several ways but work together in this line to express the speaker's descriptive intent, that intent being conveying just how ubiquitous loneliness is. It has caverns (nature) and corridors (manmade) alike.

Interesting titling. The image of a lump of coal being pressured into a diamond struck me, for some reason. The "Maker" title once again gives power to loneliness, and in this line, that loneliness has actually made the human soul. People must endure loneliness and not let it get the better of them -- in this test, the human soul is made stronger, for some. Loneliness requires a person to confront this speaker's "fear," that fear being, perhaps: 1. self-reflection, 2. forced independence, 3. the solitary act of understanding oneself.

The still-capitalized L of "loneliness" suggests that this non-concrete entity still has the upper hand. The "One," the "I," they're secondary to the loneliness in the poem.

The first mentioning of an "I." The speaker has been shrouded in the shadows of loneliness throughout the whole poem. Now, the speaker has taken some initiative, mentioning his/herself, but only to express his/her "fear."

That "Lock" imagery again suggests the powerlessness of human consciousness in the face of loneliness. (That was a lot of "ness"-es.) The image of a person wrapped in locks, alone and scared in the dark, is, ironically, really powerful in this case.

Perhaps the horror of loneliness is being described as being so strong that human consciousness can't even register its effects. When consciousness is "suspended," judgment and capability is also suspended. That "One" whose consciousness has succumbed is at the mercy of that darkness, powerless.

Avoided. Lexicon: "go around." Loneliness is something to be wary of. In this case, that enveloping darkness so characteristic of loneliness challenges "One" to fumble away from the "Horror" as best as "One" can manage.

Studied. Lexicon: to "inspect" or "examine."

Intense attention. Under a microscope. Lexicon: "close study" or "examination." Referring to that never-gonna-happen "plumbing" mission on behalf of the "One."

Like "disappear" or "die." The loneliness would no longer exist if put under "scrutiny."

Capitalized L implies that the loneliness in this poem is central, and almost treated like a proper noun. In this stanza, the agency belongs to the "One," but in the second, the loneliness itself has the agency.

The Lexicon firstly defines "alarm" as "anxiety." There is some serious personification in this stanza, in which the loneliness is given a vulnerable kind of power. It can be alarmed, after all, but still has agency in this stanza.

I tried to reword this as well, but this stanza is especially maze-like: In case the loneliness is alerted to its own presence, if that "One" ever goes "plumbing," it'd go away completely, disappearing under scrutiny. Unless it's given attention, the loneliness will continue.

"Lest" - unless, or "in case" or "for fear that," according to the Lexicon.

To reword this entire stanza, in more modern, less convoluted terms: Someone would recognize their loneliness, out loud and alone, as soon as they would investigate that loneliness. Basically, that "One" would not "dare" to face the loneliness nor would they even try to understand it.

This verb was not available on the Lexicon, but Merriam-Webster defines it as "to examine something in a careful and complete way in order to understand it" or "to experience or reach something" -- it can also mean "to measure the depth of something with a plumb," which is a lead weight. Essentially, the multi-definitive "plumbing" was a fascinating word choice here; it could have many meanings in this line and the poem as a whole. I took it to mean "to examine something."

The possessive "its" here seems to refer to the figurative tomb of Loneliness. It's a deep, dark pit, literally, for those who experience it.

To assume, or hypothesize. According to the Lexicon, "to suspect; to imagine without certain knowledge."

Acknowledging the loneliness is out of the question. A person ("One") wouldn't dare to express this feeling ("Loneliness").

no apostrophe

no apostrophe

no apostrophe here - possessive "its" instead.

Collective reference. Abstract subject. The speaker does not acknowledge an "I" until the final stanza.