Digging – Seamus Heaney

The most covetous Nobel Prize winner of 1995, Seamus Heaney expresses his feelings in his typical poem ‘Digging’ extracted from his first volume of poems called “Death of Naturalist”. His poetry mostly deals with the history of his family. The opposing natures and backgrounds of his parents caused considerable tension in his mind. The poet considered that the agriculture is the noblest of all professions of a man by which a farmer could feed the nation. The farmer strives hard both day and night throughout the year to grow more food to shun the hunger from the face of this earth.

                   “But I’ve no spade to follow them”

The poet worried himself that he could not follow his for fathers’ work. Similarly the modern youth is also slowly drifting away from these agricultural activities and had fallen behind the white collar jobs. In this context the opening lines of the poem say….

                   “Between my finger and my thumb

                    The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.”

The poem ‘Digging’ begins with our speaker at his desk, his pen poised to begin writing. Heaney gives us an image of a hand holding a pen as a gun. The pen rests between the poet’s fingers as warm and comfortable as a gun with a filled magazine of bullets like words and novel ideas to awake the people. Suddenly, he gets distracted by the rasping sound of his father outside, working with a spade in the garden. This sends our speaker into a spiral of memories about his father working in the potato fields when the speaker was young boy. The poet looks down from his reading desk through the window as hears the unpleasant sound of a spade digging the gravelly ground. Through which the poet could see the rhythmic movements of up and down of his father’s straining rump among the potato drills digging potatoes.   The poet recalls that his father was doing same type of agricultural work since his infancy. His work is so hard as his body is old enough to comply his work. As a child the poet enjoys the cool and hardness of potatoes when he picked the scattered ones.

“By God, the old man could handle a spade,

Just like his old men.”

The memory stretches even farther back to his grandfather whose hard-work as a peat harvester. His grandfather was also engrossed in the same kind of job. He proved that he could cut more turf in a day than any other man on Toner’s bog. He fondly recalls, once he carried his milk in a bottle. The bottle was sloppily ‘corked with paper and straightened up to drink it then he fell right away. Eventually, our speaker snaps out of his day-dream and comes back at his desk to get on to his writing work.

“Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

I’ll dig with it.”

The concluding lines of the poem gave us an idea that the poet could not copy the same type of his father’s farming of potatoes but farming the ideas in the farmland of his brain. Instead of the spade his pen is used to harvest the ideas that have been growing up in his mind. The pen is mightier than anything else and a small idea can change the world.

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