Interrupted Solitude

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I was on a flight back from Dublin to London. There was a lady sat next to me who had just been to visit the famous Poet Laureate, Seamus Heaney. She was quietly reading a book on poetry and we got to talking. Whether it was coincidence or Divine Intervention remains to be seen, but it DID have an impact on my future writing.

I had just written a poem which I felt unworthy of letting her read, after she - herself an established university lecturer - had told me where she was coming from. Yet I mentioned it and she read it without a word, untl the end. And her words after she had finished reading it gave me courage. She asked if I had any more. I sent some to her later and she asked if she could use them in her lectures. I felt honoured, yet still unworthy... This poem was to her... We kept in touch for a short while afterwards but then unfortunately lost touch. But I remember her kindness and her encouragement.

Interrupted Solitude A sentence here, a comment there Your ponderous thoughts you were forced to share "Who is this man?" I'm sure you said As words were drawn from within your head. ‘Twas on the flight, a normal one Until your thoughts and reminiscences - gone! Those abstract feelings within your mind Temporarily suspended - did you really find The puerile chatter of things like verse From some pedant, sure to disperse The many who really understand The written word of our fair land? A voluminous poem of no set school Scrawled by one, who though no fool Really tried - not to impress But to get comment from the Bards' mistress. Comment given, yet little criticism Of the traveller's cynicism. Relate you did - or so I thought Or else these words would come to nought. The serenity to the world you show Scarcely hides the turmoil below. For though your manner is no pretence Your well thought words seem so intense. There's something there inside of you; A pain so deep it's like a screw Turning deep into your heart As you search your mind for the words to start. Because of this these lines did I show Because of this I felt you'd know Just what it was I was trying to say As you read them through, without dismay. Was it this - a common ground, That hidden pain without a sound, Which made you talk, while instead Your book of poems you could have read? And so I thank you in my small way For your time shared with me that day. And I hope that soon you'll find That so elusive peace of mind!

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