Black Dust

‘Oh’ Lament it keeps on whispering

Through the tunnels down below

With each resounding blow

Children waking from sweet slumber

Bleary eyed they all must dread

Footsteps in the Black Dust, they will have to tread

Eyes like a Panda: Tarnished and broken; coming up to the shore

I bet your head is aching?

And your feet are really sore?

For Black is the colour of Ill Health

Black is the colour of the Coal in Dust

And Black remains the colour in which, our lungs are sure to bust

Black is the colour of the clothes they owned

Imagine all the fatalities underground?

Imagine all the Fear by which, those precious children must be bound?

“We are the young children at work, down the mines

Opening and shutting the trap doors

Who are we that we should speak? And who will fight our cause”?

‘Oh’ to play in daylight amongst others

And feel the Sun shining upon our face

We do but sit and wonder: where is the Love? And Where is Grace?

Historical moments generations will remember

For Black were the thoughts of the ‘Children’s Call’

And Black are the memories prevailing; as Coal was mined for all.

                                                                                                         Bernadette O' Horo