Smitha Sehgal
In the magnificent poem Two Lorries, Seamus Heaney holds forth reflection of two worlds juxtaposed in different timelines. On the surface of it, this poem meanders on the nostalgia of a rural era ensconced in simplicity. The end of this era is rapidly taken over by developments on the political front pushing Northern Ireland to the brink of a burning existence. So is this a political poem? The poem opens with rain falling on coal. Presumably, it is a wintry evening. There are tyre marks in the courtyard. ‘The crib of the lorry is down,’ alluding to an unguarded conversation. The lorry man Agnew is sweet-talking the poet’s mother in his Belfast accent. Here, one may recall that in the first half of the earlier century, Belfast kept up pace with Britain in the march toward industrial revolution. Young Agnew is of the city, suave and bold in his ways, venturing to know ‘would she ever go to a film in Magherafelt?’. ‘It would be a far way, it is raining and he has half a load to be delivered to Magherafelt’. ‘She is moved’, to use the subtlest expression, on the effect this young and flirtatious city man has on her, inviting her to the dream of red plush. She ‘goes back in and gets out the black lead and emery paper’. Later as the lorry revs up and heads for Magherafelt, this ‘nineteen-forties mother’ who has ‘ all business around the stove’ ‘half wipes the ashes from her cheeks’ with a back hand. The poem fast-forwards to the time when another lorry blows up the bus station in Broad Street in Magherafelt, Northern Ireland. Poet has a vision of his mother ‘in a time beyond her time’, her shopping bags full of shovelled ash as death walked by as a dust-faced coal man refolding body bags. In the spring of Nineteen Seventy Five, a massive bomb blast t witnessed six hundred pounds of explosives ripping through the heart of Maghera City. Reportedly, Irish Republican Army went on record to say then that it intended to step up its campaign against British troops. The two eras intersecting in this poem are vividly portrayed by Seamus Heaney through the eyes of a child. The lode the coal came from was silk black and therefore ashes would be silkiest white. There is white ash from the lode of the highest quality and there is a white space that does not dwell on a moral compass even when the ‘crib of the lorry is down’ and the mother is ‘half-wiping away ashes from her cheeks’ as the ‘dust-faced coal man speeds away’. We ask ourselves again, is this a political poem set in the backdrop of a fleeting romance? One returns to the earlier part of the poem to examine this. Mother is described as a ‘nineteen forties mother’ as having ‘all business round the stove’. Slowly but suddenly it dawns on us that this woman with ‘ all business round the stove’ is the axle holding together the worlds intersecting in this poem. Reading this poem socio-contextually urges one to think more, making it seem with certainty now that the poet wants to convey more than what meets the eye. Beginning in the nineteen thirties, Ireland witnessed a series of newly introduced legislations that seemed to curtail the freedom of women in the garb of the welfare of society. This included a law against contraception, a law that prohibited married women from working in the public sector and most notably the introduction of Article 41.2 in the Irish Constitution which seemed to define the territorial jurisdiction of a woman. While the Article in itself guaranteed equality to women, it also legalized the position that woman’s primary life had to be centered in her home. By an overarching law, the State sought support from the women for achieving the common good and took into its hands that : 1. In particular, the State recognises that by her life within the home, woman gives to the State a support without which the common good cannot be achieved. 2. The State shall, therefore, endeavour to ensure that mothers shall not be obliged by economic necessity to engage in labour to the neglect of their duties in the home. The status of a woman once having been moved to that of a mother, could she have nursed a hope to go out or go to a film in Magherafelt with this attractive and persuasive young man. The ‘leather-aproned coal man’ with ‘tasty ways’ is an allegory for the world out there to explore with its unpredictability and joys. Unlike a woman, a man is not bound down by law or society in his choice. He is not marauded by the paranoia of numerous dangers that await him out there or negligence to domestic duties that could befall him if he decided to journey alone or otherwise. In Ireland, while the critics have long demanded the repeal of archaic language in Article 41.2 of the Constitution on ‘ woman in the home’, the Irish Government's Joint Committee on Gender Equality has recommended that a referendum take place in 2023 on this section of the Irish Constitution. This definitely holds hope for the deletion of this long-debated language and possibly obliges the State to introduce legislation that is not gender specific. The relevance this poem assumes in this year where Irish law is set to undergo unprecedented change reaffirms our faith in the visionary power of poetry as a medium of language, a language within language that shall survive all explosions and rife of a world hurtling ahead. The art of poetry undoubtedly is the greatest step in the evolution of our species that surpasses the most potent inventions and processes. To come back to the question whether this is a political poem, yes, it is, most certainly, in a world where a large ratio of women still have to make choices centred around gender imposed role. And not to forget, how relevant to read this poem at a time when the world’s youngest female head of government, Jacintha Ardern, Prime Minister of New Zealand who led her country through the worst crisis - covid, terrorist attack and volcanic eruption has put in her papers saying ‘she no longer had enough tank to do it justice’. In her thank you note she said : “To Neve: Mum is looking forward to being there when you start school this year. And to Clarke – let’s finally get married.” One cannot help but wonder if a grown up Neve would look through the prism someday and meet his mother in a time beyond her time, her shopping bags full up with shovelled ashes of a world that could have been hers.
Smitha Sehgal
Smitha Sehgal is a legal professional with Oil & Gas CPSE of Govt of India. She writes poetry in English and Malayalam. Her poems have been featured in contemporary literary publications such as Usawa Literary Review, Madras Courier, Poetica Review UK, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, The Plum Tree Tavern, Arkana, EKL Review, Panoply and elsewhere.