Seamus Heaney had an immense and unforgettable gift. His
fluency, his sensitivity to the
atmosphere of place, and his intuitive sense of moments brimming with extraness
made his poetry and his equally marvellous prose essays lightning rods for the
essence of what it feels like and means to be alive. Equally he articulated how the space
left in life by the absence of the dead can take on a shape so powerful it
becomes a presence in itself: an absence ‘emptied into us to keep’.
Seamus Heaney: for Ann Saddlemyer
Call her Augusta
Because we arrived in August, and from now on
This month's baled hay and blackberries and combines
Will spell Augusta's bounty.
(RIP: 13th April 1939 - 30th August 2013)