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Aberfan
The cold, enveloping mist descends slowly downwards,
Downwards on an unsuspecting people.
Lights burn brightly, their beams caressing the dark and dismal
pits.
Weary mothers arouse sleeping offspring,
Many of who will be no more - tomorrow.
Mothers, unknowing of the peril yet so near,
Say "ADIEU", to so many happy faces.
Mothers who will, a few hours later,
Die a thousand deaths, waiting,
Praying for their babes to appear from what seems to be a hell
on earth.
Mothers - who are now half dead -
And yet still live.
by Angela Herbert
Dear Rose
I wrote this poem in the late 1960's about the coal mining
village of ABERFAN in Wales which was buried under a slurry of coal waste from
the tip behind the town. I talked to you about it at your demonstration of
clairvoyance in Takapuna in March 18th. I passed this village 2 hours
after the tragedy where the slip caused 116 children and 28 adults to be killed
while at school. I was 20 years old at the time and I wrote the poem from the
heart and without stopping. When my father died in 1977, my mother found
this poem in his bureau and gave it to me to keep. I could go back and
change a few words but it would make the feelings and thoughts change and I know
that it would not mean the same. I hope you feel the words and understand
what I was trying to say.
Kind Regards
Angela
I talked about this terrible disaster at "An Evening
With Rose" which I presented in Takapuna in 2006, to illustrate
how often premonitions do occur. Over 200 people reported experiencing
premonitions of this disaster, according to a survey taken afterwards. In
January 1967, a British Premonitions Bureau was set up to collect and
identify early warnings in an attempt to prevent such disasters. A similar
organisation was set up the following year in New York.
This tragedy happened 40 years ago thousands of miles away, but
in the audience was a lady who had not only been there at the time, but had been
so moved by the tragedy, that she wrote a poem of dedication to mothers and
children.
 Poem
by Doris Stokes, the famous English
Clairvoyant. She wrote this for John Michael, her Baby
son who died
In
a baby castle just beyond my eye,
My
baby plays with angel toys that money cannot buy.
Who
am I to wish him back,
Into
this world of strife?
No,
play on my baby,
You
have eternal life.
At
night when all is silent
And
sleep forsakes my eyes
I’ll
hear his tiny footsteps come running to my side.
His
little hands caress me, so tenderly and sweet.
I’ll
breathe a prayer and close my eyes and embrace him in my sleep.
Now
I have a treasure that I rate above all other,
I
have known true glory – I am still his mother
...Mothers, the universal chain that links the world together...
At the memorial
service for the tragedy of the Christchurch Earthquake the Governor General
quoted the Roman
Philosopher Seneca:
"Let
us not bury our love with death"
...
And in his tribute Prince William quoted his Grandmother Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth II :
"Grief
is the price we pay for love"
This poem was found among
the possessions of an elderly lady who died in the geriatric ward of a hospital
near Dundee in Scotland:
What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking, when you look at me –
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far-away eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice — “I do wish you’d try.”
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe,
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you’re thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse, you’re looking at ME…
I’ll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still;
As I rise at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another,
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet;
A bride soon at twenty — my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep;
At twenty-five now I have young of my own,
Who need me to build a secure, happy home;
A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last;
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn;
At fifty once more babies play ’round my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,
I look at the future, I shudder with dread,
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known;
I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel –
‘Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body is crumbled, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where once I had a heart,
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I’m loving and living life over again,
I think of the years, all too few — gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last –
So I open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabby old woman, look closer, nurses — see ME!
"Twenty years from now you
will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you
did do. Sail away from the safe harbour. Explore. Dream.
Discover." Mark Twain
To be closer to God, be closer to
people" Kahlil Gibran
"Be
at peace with God, whatever you perceive God to be. And whatever your
labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your
soul. With all the sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a
beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy"
Desiderata
“Be the change you wish to see in the world” Gandhi
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Hamlet
"Judge a man not by his religion
or politics, but by his deeds and thoughts" Rose
"Heaven is the heart's desire...
Earth is the heart's yearning"
"Change doesn't happen by standing still"
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