The poetry of the late Seamus Heaney is one of the inspirations for Blackwatertown. I saw and heard him chat and read his poetry a few times in Belfast and London - and then celebrate Ted Hughes at his memorial service at Westminster Abbey. There's a special centre all about him in Bellaghy now, and famous Seamus has all sorts of famous poems. I love his work, but it's Bye-Child that has particular significance for Blackwatertown.
I was hoping to quote from it in my book's epigraph, but the rights are split between two publishers and it looks as though it'll be too expensive. So, dear pledgers, you can read it here. (Then forget it until after you've read the book, and then go "Aaaah...")
Bye-Child
He was discovered in the henhouse
where she had confined him. He was
incapable of saying anything.
When the lamp glowed,
A yolk of light
In their back window,
The child in the outhouse
Put his eye to a chink--
Little henhouse boy,
Sharp-faced as new moons
Remembered, your photo still
Glimpsed like a rodent
On the floor of my mind,
Little moon man,
Kennelled and faithful
At the foot of the yard,
Your frail shape, luminous,
Weightless, is stirring the dust,
The cobwebs, old droppings
Under the roosts
And dry smells from scraps
She put through your trapdoor
Morning and evening.
After those footsteps, silence;
Vigils, solitudes, fasts,
Unchristened tears,
A puzzled love of the light.
But now you speak at last
With a remote mime
Of something beyond patience,
Your gaping wordless proof
Of lunar distances
Travelled beyond love.
from "Wintering Out" (1972)
Of course the other inspiration for Blackwatertown is you, dear pledgers. All 92 of you. Thanks to your support we've made it to 34% funded. So, I'm proud and grateful to welcome Julia Baber, Helen Blaby, Harry Salvidge, Andrea Catherwood, Ciaran Ward, Sonja Verma, Amanda Bolt, Paul Rocks, Liz Apedaile, George Eykyn, Ted Chaplin and Gill Edmonds. Thank you. And, y'know, tell your mates. (No, I never do give up.)
(PS the pic of Seamus is from here.)