When Tears turn to Dust
Thirty years took its toll
on that bleak midwinter day,
the landscape a spirit not of
green but the deep darkness
of those working mines...
I have a few stories I could tell
of life – pain and a living hell,
so you may feel sorry for me...
but this has been my destiny,
to lug and fetch the coal each day
some food and rest but no play...
my dreams too few to look upon
never to peek Earth...Moon or Sun,
those that once knew nothing else
would change the course of History...
where mercy...compassion had no blame,
but for them who were unskilled a mystery,
forced by predestined quandary...
their ancestral family all they knew
no mind for their safety down below,
the men in the valley sing out of
long hours – lungs full – suffocation
in the depths of depression blue...
like a worm eating his way through soil,
so he would drill till siren sounded once more,
we pit ponies never knowing the bright daylight,
but for them at the end of a working day, up top
few hours of blue sky, before darkness once more.