POEM FOR SEAMUS HEANEY BY GERALDINE CLARKSON

Magenta City/ St Ronan and the Song-Thrush/ St Ronan’s Day

i.m. Seamus Heaney

d. St Ronan’s Day 2013

The Big Man is gone

who hollowed out space

for us to scribble in

who said ‘the pen

is mightier than the spade’

whose slow smile Ireland

evoked, solid like the land

grateful for rain, louring mountain

and we waking

to a colder day.

Irony bent to a clatter

of hooves at noon.

Kind Derry lyre.

Sing him, keen.

The city wears purple now.

Long of him, long his.

As he passes into the halls

a hush, while the great swell

of his words rises, ripples,

breaks, speaks

for him, and more.

May his priestly Maker soul mist

and gambol with mirth.

The clock ticks for song, for us.

Comments

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