At the Wellhead

  Two sonnets hark back to Heaney’s roots (family, a neighbour (Rosie Keenan), his playmates) around the time that ‘the arts’ came into their lives. His emotions well up. The poet reaches towards a ‘veteran’ singer, anonymous and dear to him (most probably the blind girl herself but perhaps his mother who was a school-friend of Rosie Keenan or his Aunt Mary both of that previous generation or his wife, Marie, of the present one). He recalls familiar strains delivered in her singular way: Your songs, when you sing them with your two eyes closed/ As you always do; airs as familiar to him as ‘the back of his hand’ (a local road / We’ve known every turn of in […]