good food good words

I spent a lovely evening having a fabulous meal with the newly minted Doctors Smith and Hylen. It was Smitty who turned me on to Seamus Heaney and I picked up the anthology he had given me several years ago, Opened Ground, and started reading a bit when I got home. What follows is a selection from The Cure at Troy. I'd forgotten how much I loved this. I'm not exactly a poetic fellow, but this got me through some hard times; I read and re-read this dozens of times while I was in Egypt, and remembering that made me want to share it. This is just a taste--best to savor it bite by bite.

Chorus

Philoctetes.
Hercules.
Odysseus.
Heroes. Victims. Gods and human beings.
All throwing shapes, every one of them
Convinced he's in the right, all of them glad
To repeat themselves and their every last mistake,
No matter what.

People so deep into
Their own self-pity self-pity buoys them up.
People so staunch and true, they are pillars of truth,
Shining with self-regard like polished stones.
And their whole life spent admiring themselves
For their own long suffering.
Highlighting old scars
And flashing them around like decorations.
I hate it. I always hated it, I am
A part of it myself.