Lost, now, the laughter-days, death is the smear
That soils the tragic village with a stain
Stilling the sweet child-voices, spilling fear
To pierce the waiting mothers' hearts with pain.
Death lurched, suddenly, from the hill high-piled
In slithering mounds of man-erupted waste;
Grief is the crying of a dying child
As frantic hands delve deep in frightened haste.
The valley mourns and there is no tomorrow
Of dancing feet and voices raised in play,
Theirs but a shroud to share, of sorrow,
A tear to shed remembering today.
God, is this part of your Almighty Plan -
The silence in the homes of Aberfan?

Namur King - Blackwood - 1966

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Davy King writes: "The piece was written by my late father, Namur King, who was born & brought up in Blackwood.

"Though he later moved away from Wales, it never left his heart and he revisted it shortly before his death in 1968.

"I was only a child at the time he wrote this powerful piece on the day of the disaster at Aberfan. It has not previously been published.

"I feel it deserves to be preserved as an eloquent memorial to those tragic events. It may strike a chord with people in the area."