As choking we emerged to sight, each blinking in the morning light

Not thinking that we ever might have seen the sun again;

By the pit gates loved ones waited, praying to their God that fate would

Hand us back unharmed from hated Death in Hell’s Domain;

Their ecstasy of dark relief these words cannot explain,

Nor bitter tears contain.

Two days before, a hammer’s spark ignited gas and lit the dark

As those nearby saw flash and arc – their death quickly came;

From further out we heard the roar, then felt the rush of wind before

The intake ventilation door blew off in broiling flame;

The moments next are lost to me; I’ll never ascertain

What followed as I’d lain.

Then as from some place distantly I heard the District Deputy

Whisper in my face as he screamed “Was I blind or lame?”

We stumbled where the roof would sag and picked our feet through flesh and rag

Collecting tallies for his bag, to give to each his name;

With every charred and dust-choked man as if in battle slain

The Best of Houghton Main.

A photo sits upon my shelf; it’s of the mine, the lads, myself,

Laughing, laiking, in full health before that shift, that day,

Reminding me of Hell and dust, and till I join them that I must

Uphold their memory and trust – that is the Miner’s Way;

To fail would be unthinkable – such brotherhood betrayed

Could never be repaid.

In my sleep they did not die; I drink with them; we fight; we cry;

I find it hard to justify the reason I was spared;

I walk the tips; I fish the streams – no more to sweat in four foot seams

But wonder what our short span means, and offer up my prayer;

If only I could trade with them their Peace for my Despair

-           And a breath of my fresh air.