What a tragedy to have visited upon your family, friends and community. Can one ever recover from such a tragic loss? This sad ode sent my thoughts swirling back to the mining community in which I was raised. Mercifully, I have been spared the emotional upheaval that your kin endured. There were coal mines in our area that had entombed men down below. Our local mine lost ten men in a disaster, while a mine in a nearby village suffered the loss of more than this number in 1947. I don't the exact figure but there is a plaque near the spot where the shaft used to be. My Dad died a typical miner's death e.g. bad lungs, heart and physical damage to limbs, eyes and ears. He was caught in a cave in in 1979 which forced him to retire. It was downhill from then on for him. Our village is populated in part by a dwindling number of widows from my parents generation. All the men died either young or soon after retiring. You know the score.
As youngsters we tended to frolic upon the sites of these disasters because we were oblivious to them (except of course the major disaster in your experience related in your poem). Did you ever scale the slag heaps and slide back down on bits of discarded conveyer belt or board? Did you ever go into the canteen and ask men for uneaten sandwiches? Did you ever go to the joiner's shed for sawdust for your pet mouse or hamster? Tragedy abounded in mining communities, but as youngsters, we had these bright moments of everyday play.
Thanks for pointing me to this, what I'd call in this instance, the write of a tragedian rather than a poet.
It is so nice and thoughtful of you to write this heartfelt tribute to the lost ones. I'm moved that you and your neighbours are so close to each other, so it is like a big family.
Thirty- eight to be exact went in to that cold dark mine…
Never again to exit…
Truly sad, Joyce, and you've penned a very heartfelt remembrance here.
Reviewed by Victor Buhagiar (Reader)
Reviewed on September 27, 2006
This a great tribute and it is good to see such solidarity. Victor
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on September 27, 2006
Joyce this is a sorrowful and memorial tribute to those around you and your own families loss. Death can strike anywhere at anytime whether war, natural, or tragic event this is so heartfelt with tears it needed to be written. God Bless Thank you, Joselyn
So sad, Joyce. My Daddy worked in the mines, too, and though he witnessed terrible accidents, and lost a brother in the mine, he came through unscathed.
You've told this sad story well.
Connie
Reviewed by Dove JoAnne Cromp (Reader)
Reviewed on September 27, 2006
Oh my God, how emotional..Beautifuly stated Joyce..This was gloriously tributed..I am sssooooo sorry for your loss...
We Will Stone Him is a raw, unfiltered trauma memoir about surviving childhood abuse, emotional manipulation, and the lifelong wounds that follow. This true story marks the beginning of the Rising From The Ashes Trilogy, John Gambacorta and his survi
Rosetta was born in 1909 as the youngest of ten children. The family had more laughter than money and neighbors would knock on their door to ask, "Can we come in and laugh, too?"
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This was, obviously, an emotional poem for you to write, Your pain was clear in your words. I applaud you for writing despite the pain.
Terry
As youngsters we tended to frolic upon the sites of these disasters because we were oblivious to them (except of course the major disaster in your experience related in your poem). Did you ever scale the slag heaps and slide back down on bits of discarded conveyer belt or board? Did you ever go into the canteen and ask men for uneaten sandwiches? Did you ever go to the joiner's shed for sawdust for your pet mouse or hamster? Tragedy abounded in mining communities, but as youngsters, we had these bright moments of everyday play.
Thanks for pointing me to this, what I'd call in this instance, the write of a tragedian rather than a poet.
It is so nice and thoughtful of you to write this heartfelt tribute to the lost ones. I'm moved that you and your neighbours are so close to each other, so it is like a big family.
May God bless you all always!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel
Never again to exit…
Truly sad, Joyce, and you've penned a very heartfelt remembrance here.
Sorry for your loss.
You've told this sad story well.
Connie
Love,
Dove