“A Dog Was Crying in Wicklow Also” – Seamus Heaney‏

by richibi

the death of a poet is not a happy occasion,
and yet their voices become clearer, it seems,
after their demise, as though the connection
had been stripped of any temporal, or even
corporal, merely, considerations, I talk to my
father, for instance, more directly, and indeed
intimately, than ever I did when he was alive
 
Seamus Heaney, 1939 – 2013, a poet, even
laureate, died August 30th, but left us with
this beautiful poem he’d written, on the
death of a friend
 
 
Richard
 
                     _______________
 
 
A Dog Was Crying in Wicklow Also
 
When human beings found out about death
They sent the dog to Chukwu with a message:
They wanted to be let back to the house of life.
They didn’t want to end up lost forever
Like burnt wood disappearing into smoke
Or ashes that get blown away to nothing.
Instead, they saw their souls in a flock at twilight
Cawing and headed back for the same old roosts
And the same bright airs and wing-stretchings each morning.
Death would be like a night spent in the wood:
At first light they’d be back in the house of life.
(The dog was meant to tell all this to Chukwu).
But death and human beings took second place
When he trotted off the path and started barking
At another dog in broad daylight just barking
Back at him from the far bank of a river.
And that is how the toad reached Chukwu first,
The toad who’d overheard in the beginning
What the dog was meant to tell. “Human beings,” he said
(And here the toad was trusted absolutely),
“Human beings want death to last forever.”
Then Chukwu saw the people’s souls in birds
Coming towards him like black spots off the sunset
To a place where there would be neither roosts nor trees
Nor any way back to the house of life.
And his mind reddened and darkened all at once
And nothing that the dog would tell him later
Could change that vision. Great chiefs and great loves
In obliterated light, the toad in mud,
The dog crying out all night behind the corpse house.
 

                                       Seamus Heaney, 1995
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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