Mountain Coldheart - A Poem in Tribute to the Utah Mine Rescuers

Mountain Coldheart

Deep within the mountain here,

Is rock which grips our loved ones dear.

They mined and tunnelled its seams and holes

It shook with rage to claim their souls.

Its cold North face, sharp and ungiving,

Sent raining rockfalls down on the living,

Who, with warm hearts and hands like spades,

Dug hard for families, so they could eat and play.

Deep within the tunnels dour,

A shiver trembled up through the floor

And under hands dusty, chapped and sore,

The wet walls reverberated more and more.

Work stopped, eyes met, locked in fear,

For a moment paralysed, to try to hear.

Husbands, sons and fathers stood

Til with a stronger tremor, they understood.

Down went their tools, helmet lights went on,

Silently filing back the way they'd come

And all the while the silence kept

Save for the increasing bark

Of the grating mountain in the dark

And the drip, drip drop of the mountains tears

Which added flooded tunnels to their fears.

One last dark shaft as they felt their way,

One cage to reach to see the glimmer of day

But the next roar of the mountain was so seizmic

There could no longer be any swift reprisal.

The tunnels roof was blocked, buckled and bent,

Across its ceiling a gash was rent.

The timbers for a moment sway,

For a moment, stand firm, but then give way

As a mountain collapses in on itself

To swallow the miners, trapped on a shelf,

Rock upon boulder, stone upon stone.

The mountain swallowed bodies, it doesn't own souls

Or laughter, or memories, the love in our hearts

As we remember the press of a cuddle, the light in an eye,

It's just a giant memorial that touches the sky.

We have memories to craft our own memorial above,

To build A Testament to Sacrifice,A Testament to Love.

Mountain Coldheart

Deep within the mountain here,

Is rock which grips our loved ones dear.

They mined and tunnelled its seams and holes

It shook with rage to claim their souls.

Its cold North face, sharp and ungiving,

Sent raining rockfalls down on the living,

Who, with warm hearts and hands like spades,

Dug hard for families, so they could eat and play.

Deep within the tunnels dour,

A shiver trembled up through the floor

And under hands dusty, chapped and sore,