Norman Turns
They watched as the tentacles of the atomic industry spread.
A mycelium growth along the coastline.
Ever nearing the land beloved of Nicholson, a uniqueness being devoured.
False hope and promise.
and like the swans on the flooded mine, buried their heads, feeding on the scraps.
As Bank Head and Kirksanton suffered they slobbered, selective blindness to the cruelty.
The weak of the clutch removed from the nest.
It was their job to protect, to highlight the injustice.
But ever on they went dredging the depths, ignoring those whose plates were being stripped clean to feed them.
Profitting on the misery of others.
Those who took their words as true, left helpless.
The community that the poet exalted, different, deceived, and forever divided.
Pioneers betrayed.
Windscale, Calder Hall built by them yet kept at distance to preserve our place.
The poets castle restored on the “Unnecessary suffering”
Norman turns.
The shame.
Copyright © Timothy Kendall | Year Posted 2026
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