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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Aberfan Fifty years since Aberfan and a welsh town's grief it first began. For every coal mine, slurry mounds, theirs claimed the young from school playgrounds. Miner's digging underground below slurry piles that made no sound. Seasons's came and then passed by and slurry tips held up the sky. Charcoaled men worked as the norm, the day October grief was born. Children just arrived at school when nature broke its own set rule. Mother's who to school they led, some buried with their own sweet dead. mothers lived and mothers died, that day old mother wales she cried. Rain had poured on vales and hills, it stirred the base the slurry spilled. Children in a flash wiped out, no time to plan or even shout. Teacher's killed along with them, a school assembled said Amen. A child was saved by twist of fate, she ran back home which made her late. Her sister's life fate did not spare, when the girl returned no school was there. The priest he knew not what to say, but held their hands and cried their pain. He saw it as how Mary felt, when Jesus died and his mother knelt, her broken son no longer here, she cried her pain with her own sweet tears. The news it travelled world around, its focus on the ghastly mound. The ghastly mound that sat so still, until the day it's larva spilt. The dead were buried side by side, a school of souls in one landslide.
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