Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Heaney Whispers

photo: erik richardson

Heaney Whispers

by Erik Richardson

Sitting in the Dublin airport where runways left
a surgical scar in the midst of green-bellied fields
the country stares at me through Heaney’s eyes
through time. His picture whispers from the terminal wall
of railway children and telegraph wires
slightly out of place here. The whispers
move on through, me waiting like others before for a plane
with scalpel wings to sever me, history.
As the wings slice, peat-black shadows
bleed out to pool under me under crumbled ruins
unhealed and held in place
by rain and dark, by vigilant sheep, tangled
with winding roads
themselves cut through time
through the midst of green-bellied fields

~ originally published in Chiron Review