In the footsteps of our fathers

we took the restoration trail

through wooded hill and wetland

from Aspull through to Haigh

 

sucked up the coldness

of a late winter sun

reflected on

the stillness of it all

each sunken dead tree scrum

on mirrored flash

no whispering grass

all secrets to the grave

 

and in the distance stark reminder

of where our history lay

ruck heaped with spoil

the toil of all our fathers

banked in landscape

barren, grey

 

resentful of this exercise

my children wailed

bemoaned the hand that brought them there

then trailed

3 miles becoming more like 10…

till off the leash I watched them scale

the highest branch of every living tree

cut free, till they were breath and wind and sky

and I

left grounded there to muse upon

iniquities of time

and all the lifelines lost to draglines

in girdle, harness , chain

bodies bent, racked double

in this our heritage of pain                                                                                                                                                           

 

beneath my feet the rumble

of coal truck full to brim

stifled all the voices

of the children trapped within

the blackness and the bleakness

of the bleeding hour on end

a candle width for company

a shadow thrown for friend

 

In the footsteps of their fathers

they walked the miners’ way

on hands and knees

in darkness

from Aspull through to Haigh

 

 

(audio version on youtube cos my computer's playing up :)