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Click hereSago Diaries
Each Greedy Sip
A cry from the dark
haunting, haunting
the deadly air
settling in dark clouds.
Breathless black
soot and dust
the silent monoxide
seeping the seams
while above, life
in moments like days
every breath seems stolen
from those far below.
The faintest hope
a dim light and air
fresh air – a prayer
their only chance.
We wait and breathe
each greedy sip
in the last – their
last gasps of hope.
In Forty Hours
In forty hours - give or take
in the inches and feet
beneath the ground
in the fading light
a flickering hope
in the breathless air,
inhaled, then exhaled
in a thousand prayers
momentarily answered - given
then brutally taken away
in forty hours - give or take.
XII
when so many
depended
a barrow in red
flickering lights
twelve wheeled
in silent rain
beside the white
ambulances
(with apologies to W.C.Willams)
sago diary
torns bits of paper
scrawled words
in blotched ink
voices from the darkness
coarse whispers
in faint "I love yous"
silently fade to black
gently gone to sleep
on a subject that has so caught and held the public eye. Very sad and poignant and captured those emotions perfectly.
I'm glad someone wrote this and wrote it so well. It was haunting to read in the news about the notes those miners left behind. And I love your diary approach to this poem.
Thank you.
A baker's dozen were caught that night
One made it out and fights for his life.
I was unable to come up with words fitting to remember those men from the Sago mine - you've done an excellent job here.
huh? jim, I read to the bottom but I felt as though I should have not <grinin' I enjoyed your puzzle play on words, decayed....