Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.
"Digging" by Seamus Heaney. Hear (and see!) Seamus read it on youtube here
Seamus Heaney passed away. A sad loss to his family and to the people who admired his work.
I count myself as one of them - I've reading started to read his work, not expecting to find much to interest me. It surprised me, how the beauty of the poems touched me. That someone finds Ireland, the bogs of Ireland beautiful still feels like a strange thing. Why is this, I wonder?
Heaney's work is heavily rooted in the soil, especially his poems about the people found in the bog (Bog Queen springs to mind). But it wasn't just that, his poems examine his connection to, his love for his family. There's almost a guilt about not following in his fathers footsteps, but surely that's what we as human beings must do. Find our own way to own our traditions, sometimes that means stepping away from what our parents made us. Times change, and our lives need to change with them. but that doesn't mean we don't love our roots - does it?
And in honour of the man, please enjoy this reading of "the rain stick"