From The Frontier Of Writing Poem by Seamus Heaney

From The Frontier Of Writing

Rating: 3.2

The tightness and the nilness round that space
when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect
its make and number and, as one bends his face

towards your window, you catch sight of more
on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent
down cradled guns that hold you under cover

and everything is pure interrogation
until a rifle motions and you move
with guarded unconcerned acceleration—

a little emptier, a little spent
as always by that quiver in the self,
subjugated, yes, and obedient.

So you drive on to the frontier of writing
where it happens again. The guns on tripods;
the sergeant with his on-off mike repeating

data about you, waiting for the squawk
of clearance; the marksman training down
out of the sun upon you like a hawk.

And suddenly you're through, arraigned yet freed,
as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall
on the black current of a tarmac road

past armor-plated vehicles, out between
the posted soldiers flowing and receding
like tree shadows into the polished windscreen.

Bill Wright 01 September 2016

Heaney really brings to life what it was like living in Northern Ireland at that time.

0 0 Reply
Raymond Farrell 27 April 2015

The reality of living in Northern Ireland at the time.

1 1 Reply
* Sunprincess * 19 March 2014

............this was obviously a true experience....nice write..

5 1 Reply
Seamus Heaney

Seamus Heaney

Castledàwson, County Londonderry
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