"The Blackbird of Glanmore"

On the grass when I arrive, 
Filling the stillness with life, 
But ready to scare off 
At the very first wrong move. 
In the ivy when I leave.

It’s you, blackbird, I love.

I park, pause, take heed. 
Breathe. Just breathe and sit 
And lines I once translated 
Come back: “I want away 
To the house of death, to my father

Under the low clay roof.”

And I think of one gone to him, 
A little stillness dancer – 
Haunter-son, lost brother – 
Cavorting through the yard, 
So glad to see me home,

My homesick first term over.

And think of a neighbour’s words 
Long after the accident: 
“Yon bird on the shed roof, 
Up on the ridge for weeks – 
I said nothing at the time

But I never liked yon bird.”

The automatic lock 
Clunks shut, the blackbird’s panic 
Is shortlived, for a second 
I’ve a bird’s eye view of myself, 
A shadow on raked gravel

In front of my house of life.

Hedge-hop, I am absolute 
For you, your ready talkback, 
Your each stand-offish comeback, 
Your picky, nervy goldbeak – 
On the grass when I arrive,

In the ivy when I leave.



Published in 2006 in "District and Circle" by Seamus Heaney (1939-2013)






Mum and I went shopping in Colchester this afternoon, to get her some new black boots.  Memories of Dad were everywhere, from many past trips there with him, and we arrived home missing him terribly.  As Mum said, we will have to adapt to life without him but it won't ever seem quite right.  At the moment, it feels as if I will never shake off this heavy heart.  Mum is quite simply heartbroken.  She has lost her soulmate.