The world of poetry is generally not so generous with its members. As already wrote, sometimes it neglects women, but the most neglected kind of authors are the alive ones. And those who o not necessarily write about the shakespearian despised love.
The reason of this seems to be historically unknown, but an observer of the world of poetry may notice that generally people care about poetry only in case of sufferance and that death seems to be one of the most inspiring theme. Just like love. Funny, is it not?
Put up your hand if you are a poetry lover and, at the same time, know and have read at list once one of the amazing poems of Seamus Heaney.
Though, Heaney is widely considered Ireland’s most accomplished contemporary poet and has often been called one of the greatest poets since William Butler Yeats.
Ironical in personality and tremendously deep in his literary works, we can find a climax of his career in the poem ‘Station Island’, the second part of his 3 sections collection. The collection itself has the same title as this poem.
This work, made up by 740 lines parted in 12 sections, tells about his clearly dantesque trip to a "earthly purgatory", station Island. This place is nothing but Station Island situated in Donegal, Ireland. The setting of this tale in verses, is a famous site of pilgrimage and prayers very famous among Irish people.
In the over 700 lines we find the autobiographical account of Heaney’s 48 hours journey to the island. In the journey he meets, just like Dante did in the Divina Commedia, a series of personalities, more or less know in Irish culture and literature.
The final aim of this trip is not salvation nor paradise. He’ll find the reasons of his journey in the journey itself, and in the words spoken by those he meets: Joyce, an IRA soldier, an archeologist, the Irish thinker and poet Simon Sweeny, members of his family and other "fully Irish" characters.
They all give him veiled (and sometimes not veiled at all) counsels about writing.
Which is the right division that separates individual life experience and the life in the community (ies) we belong to? That’s what the poet is trying to understand in his almost-religious trip.
Moreover, we’re not talking about the individuality of a "normal" and common person, but about a poet, whose individuality is often the home and mother of his poetical thinking. Something sacred.
But even the community he belongs to is not such a common one (mainly in the period he wrote this poem and the collection was published, in 1984, during the bloodiest period of Northern Ireland revolts).
Some of the ghostly characters he meets, like in the example of his cousin, accuse the poet for "not writing" about something they think is fundamental: the story of blood and murders of Ireland, political issues and so on. It is the same accusation made by the hungry soul of Carleton, the Irish poet met in the 2nd section. In those characters accusing and blaming him, Heaney expiates the sense of guilt of a poet for his individuality, though belonging to a community whose identity and history is much overwhelming for a poet.
The 12th and final stops of his long reamy (or nightmary) via crucis tells about the meeting with Joyce. He seems to redeem the poet from the previous accusations and rewarding the importance of independency (direct son of individualism) in poetry.
