The Forge by Seamus Heaney Blog #12 Poem #8

All I know is a door into the dark.
Outside, old axles and iron hoops rusting;
Inside, the hammered anvil’s short-pitched ring,
The unpredictable fantail of sparks
Or hiss when a new shoe toughens in water.
The anvil must be somewhere in the centre,
Horned as a unicorn, at one end and square,
Set there immoveable: an altar
Where he expends himself in shape and music.
Sometimes, leather-aproned, hairs in his nose,
He leans out on the jamb, recalls a clatter
Of hoofs where traffic is flashing in rows;
Then grunts and goes in, with a slam and flick
To beat real iron out, to work the bellows.

This poem makes me think of a old memory that someone is recalling and reminiscing on. In a way the way it's being described I think of something rusty and old but it also makes it a light poem because although it starts out talking about the dark door we realize that it's not as dark. It's a joyful memory in the narrators life. The way they describe the "fantail of sparks." demonstrate something important. The poem isn't recalling a terrible memory but a memory they can smile about. When I read the poem I thought of a child remembering the things that the family had kept in the shed and how the father would do things while the child watched. It's almost a simple memory that puts a smile on the narrators face because of just how simple it is. I thought of simple memories I have with my family and they also make me smile. This is exactly how I see the narrator, smiling while remembering the significant moment in their life. It's interesting that all the ways the narrator describes the memory happen to not be dull. They interest me and when I read it for the second time I saw the beauty it holds. The description of the sounds, the grunts, it's unique. I enjoyed the poem.