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  • christine

Northumberland Opencast

I keep driving past this on my way to other places and it horrifies me every time I see it.

Bleak uncharted terrain

Untethered from the world.

Lost, remote


No bright hues

Or seasonal changes

Just grey and desolate

Arraigned instead

In tramps’ clothes

Ragged, worn and old.

Underfoot gravelled grained

In cinders black

Scattered in taunt shadows

Etched in mounds of ash

A nightmare landscape

Filled with cracks.


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