PoemStorm on the Island
Author / PoetSeamus Heaney
TagsFear, Isolation, Nature, Shelter

We are prepared: we build our houses squat,
Sink walls in rock and roof them with good slate.
This wizened earth has never troubled us
With hay, so, as you see, there are no stacks
Or stooks that can be lost. Nor are there trees
Which might prove company when it blows full
Blast: you know what i mean — leaves and branches
Can raise a tragic chorus in a gale
So that you listen to the thing you fear
Forgetting that it pummels your house too.
But there are no trees, no natural shelter.
You might think that the sea is company,
Exploding comfortably down on the cliffs,
But no: when it begins, the flung spray hits
The very windows, spits like a tame cat
Turned savage. We just sit tight while wind dives
And strafes invisibly. Space is a salvo,
We are bombarded by the empty air.
Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear.

Seamus Heaney
Seamus Heaney
Region: Eastern Europe
Period: Contemporary
Awards: Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize, Nobel Prize in Literature, Whitbread Book Award

more poems by Seamus Heaney

Poem NameTopic
Whatever You Say Say NothingConflict, Internment, Journalism
ValedictionAbsence, Emptiness, Love
The OtterIntimacy, Memory, Swimmer
PunishmentAdultery, Bog, Revenge
Personal HeliconDarkness, Memory, Reflection
Death of a NaturalistFlax, Frogs, Spawn
BoglandBog, Depth, History
Blackberry-PickingBlackberries, Decay, Loss

all poems by Seamus Heaney

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