Danger.
Vibrant with silence any closed mine
re-generates voices of long-gone men.
Sealed into old seams each tragic time
when an accident meant multiple death.
Vision\'s eye fancies a doused candle
in gas-stifled cavern\'s pitch-black end.
Lads breathing acid\'s sulphuric strangle
would reach for hands of choking friends.
Visitors view scary corners where boys
waited for trucks stacked with ore-waste.
Young backs would bend, then noiselessly
push to distortion-pain until the shift-change.
Mining spells danger
and who labours there
still needs each pit-cage
impregnated with prayer.