I didn’t understand why the tears Were pouring down the reporter’s my mam’s and my gran’s faces,
Kath
I wasn’t quite four
When the BBC showed
Gritty, grey images, of stark faced men,
Digging through the floodlit night
Of apron clad women being led from school gates.
I didn’t understand why the tears
Were pouring down the reporter’s my mam’s and my gran’s faces,
Or how the black mountain flooded the school
Wiping out a village generation
I don’t remember telling my mam
They need Thunderbirds there
Or her response
I understand fifty years on
How five fateful minutes
Made Ysgol Pantglas Aberfan
The three saddest words to a Welshman