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Monday, September 9, 2024

Seamus Heaney*

Seamus Heaney (1939—2013) is one of Ireland’s most respected poets. He grew up in the north and — not for political or religious reasons — moved to the south in 1972. He has also been shared by the US (he taught for one semester a year at Harvard for 20 years) and England (he was Poetry Professor at Oxford for five years).

In his poetry he frequently preserves memories of the past — the sound and feel of how tasks were accomplished during his childhood, other aspects of the way rural life was, and memories of family, church, and school life. He said, “Almost always [a poem] starts from some memory, something you’d forgotten that comes up like a living gift of presence.” For Heaney, though, such thoughts require further reflection. “That is the kind of poem I really like: the stimulus in memory, but the import, hopefully, more than just the content of memory.”

The following poem is, by my count, the third time Heaney has taken on this story from the Gospels (Matthew 9, Mark 2, Luke 5). The first was in his book Seeing Things (1991), the second in Human Chain (2010) — and this one appeared in Poetry Ireland Review in 2014, after Heaney’s death. As far as I know, it has not been collected in a posthumous poetry collection.

The Latecomers

He saw them come, then halt behind the crowd
That wailed and plucked and ringed him, and was glad
They kept their distance. Hedged on every side,

Harried and responsive to their need,
Each hand that stretched, each brief hysteric squeal –
However he assisted and paid heed,

A sudden blank letdown was what he’d feel
Unmanning him when he met the pain of loss
In the eyes of those his reach had failed to bless.

And so he was relieved the newcomers
Had now discovered they’d arrived too late
And gone away. Until he hears them, climbers

On the roof, a sound of tiles being shifted,
The treble scrape of terra cotta lifted
And a paralytic on his pallet

Lowered like a corpse into a grave,
Exhaustion and the imperatives of love
Vied in him. To judge, instruct, reprove,

And ease them body and soul.
Not to abandon but to lay on hands.
Make time. Make whole. Forgive.

*This is the fourth Kingdom Poets post about Seamus Heaney: first post, second post, third post.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the author of five poetry collections including Angelicus (2021, Cascade) ― a book of poems written from the point-of-view of angels. His books are available through Wipf & Stock.