"At the San Francisco Airport," Yvor Winters

Yvor Winters (1900-1968) was a poet, teacher, and critic of poetry known for his isolation. Born in Chicago, he attended the University of Chicago until he moved to New Mexico after being diagnosed with tuberculosis. He attended many other universities and worked on his doctorate at Stanford. His numerous works reflected his belief that any work of art should be “an act of moral judgement.”

This is the terminal: the light

Gives perfect vision, false and hard;

The metal glitters, deep and bright.

Great planes are waiting in the yard—

They are already in the night.

And you are here beside me, small,

Contained and fragile, and intent

On things that I but half recall—

Yet going whither you are bent.

I am the past, and that is all.

But you and I in part are one:

The frightened brain, the nervous will,

The knowledge of what must be done,

The passion to acquire the skill

To face that which you dare not shun.

The rain of matter upon sense

Destroys me momently. The score:

There comes what will come. The expense

Is what one thought, and something more—

One’s being and intelligence.

This is the terminal, the break.

Beyond this point, on lines of air,

You take the way that you must take;

And I remain in light and stare—

In light, and nothing else, awake.

In his poem "At the San Francisco Airport" Yvor Winters’s use of language beautifully tells the story of a father (probably Winters) saying goodbye to his daughter, perhaps for the last time. As they stand in the airport terminal, he realizes that "this is the terminal, the break." The word "terminal" means "an end or extremity," suggesting that his daughter will not return.

The father pays close attention to the details of the terminal. The light "gives perfect vision, harsh and hard" and "the metal glitters, deep and bright," conflicting with the darkness of the situation and the empty hopelessness he feels as he stands amid the chaos of the terminal. He recognizes that his daughter, though "small, contained and fragile" is like the planes already waiting: she has made her decision to leave, "to face that which (she) dares not shun."

Personally, I think she has decided to join the military. For whatever reason, her father knows that her chances of returning home are slim and as a result, "the rain of matter upon sense destroys (him) momently." The whole situation is hard for him to fully understand. He seems to lull himself into a false sense of security by assuring himself that they are one, that she carries him with her wherever she goes. In addition, they both share not only "the frightened brain, the nervous will," but also "the knowledge of what must be done." While she is doing an honorable and courageous thing, her father notes that "the expense is what one thought, and something more - one's being and intelligence." Even if she does manage to return home she won't be the same. She may suffer from a physical deformity or a mental illness such as PTSD.

The author's use of strong, precise adjectives and verbs convey the father's situation and emotions, but also the idea that saying goodbye and letting go is never easy. In fact we may find ourselves like the father, remaining "in light, and nothing else, awake,” as we watch them leave.