Reclamation (Poetry)

Like barrows smoothed by caring turf -
At peace beneath forgiving grass -
Old slagheaps merge with contoured earth.
Disguise Death's ugliness at last.

And weeds deny there ever ran
A railway line, a narrow track
To take the fresh-cut coal in drams
Along the valley's edge and back.

As searching sun picks out the spot
Where once the spectral pit wheel splayed
Thin-fingered spokes - now vibrant knots
Of creeping wilderness persuades

The untrained eye that all is healed,
The scars invisible - too pale
To show the wound, the mended weal
Patched green by Nature's gauzy veil;

Where spirits call across the void
And breathe an air of quiet despair
For local industry destroyed
By governments who did not care.

And underground the shafts, disused,
Are full of silence and black dust
That gathers, undisturbed, subdues
Machinery condemned to rust

In idleness. The fallen roofs
And empty galleries subside
As pressing rock, relentless, proves
The agent of unchecked demise.

While, up above, the fireweed throws
Its long pink tongues of living flame
In memory; the cool wind blows
On unmarked graves the years reclaim.