A Valediction to Seamus Heaney

In the empty classroom,
The dust specks settle.                                                                              

Ink dries, paper stains.                                                                            

The great poet comes before us.
His carefully chosen nouns chiming out                                                      

Sense and wisdom.
Speaking in weighted nuance of the everyday,
With truth unblinking. 

Lost boy, watching child, 

They of the measled shins and dipping knives

Old man with papery skin

The girl, the mother, the wife.

These whisping ghosts take to the air.  

They climb the walls,

Casting shadows so long
That nothing else remains. 

But the tense has changed. 

The story makes to its end.                                                                                               

And as the last bell rings out,
It is safe to leave, unseen.                                                                    

Knowing as the door closes,                                                                      

What rises up within.

Up.

Up. 

Passing   

Changing

Everlasting. 

by M. Burrowes