The Song of the Mud poem, by Mary Borden was a very intriguing read, and a very confusing one at the same time. At first, it sounds as though the writer is admiring the mud for its sort of beauty. However, as the poem continues, the writer describes mud as something just there, that may swallow you whole, or kill your comrades, in such a casual way I was actually a little disgusted at first, because who writes about something so horrible, in such a casual manner? isn’t there supposed to be some sort of somber respect for these soldiers who had to put up with these terrible conditions? But reading further, I realize it was quite somber, in its way of taking lives, and there’s nothing you could do. That is somber, and sad. Some parts of the poem depicted the mud as some sort of monster, waiting to catch you as you trip on a wooden plank, or steal weapons without any trace. It made quite an emotional impact on me because of the different ways the poem depicts the mud, which also confused me. Should I dislike the mud? Should I admire the mud? Should I not care and just read the poem and take a couple notes and call it a day? I think this poem, in the end made me think about the will to survive, and how say, if you were shot on the battlefield, you may call for help, get the help, and live to see another day. But for the mud, life is slowly sucked away. You have no hope of escape.