Seamus Heaney

Wedding Day

I am afraid. 
Sound has stopped in the day  
And these images reel over  
And over. Why all those tears,

The wild grief on his face  
Outside the taxi? The sap  
Of mourning rises
In our waving guests.

You sing behind the tall cake  
Like a deserted bride 
Who persists, demented,  
And goes through the ritual.

When I went to the Gents 
There was a skewered heart 
And a legend of love. Let me
Sleep on your breast to the airport.