The Angel of the North.

Emerging from the darkened voiceless void beneath

Embracing weathered wings span the Gateshead skyline

Reflects our transition from industrial to information age

Celebrates the toil and labour of those beneath who mined.

 

Above ground we breathe the air and grasp the light

200 tonnes of weathering steel guards our future still

Hope rises from coal’s scarred and savaged wounds

As we pay homage to the Angel on the hill.

Deep-rooted in its megalithic mound

And anchored down by love and stone.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pilgrimage in a post-industrial landscape.

 

Morpeth mopes amidst the mildewed mounds

Of coke and coal and grime hewn by hungry hands.

Derelict Silos silhouetted in a moonlit sky

Iron beasts and barren landscapes

Whilst Angel spreads her wings on hillside high.

 

Deep scars and seams of people slain

In Tanfield beneath the sleet and driving rain

The worlds oldest railway dilapidated in dormant sidings dies

Testament to Britain- the first industrial nation,

An epithet built on poor peoples’ lives.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

 

We spent Easter in the wind snow and rain, touring the North-East. This is for d’verse where we were asked to consider pilgrimage. To me this was a true pilgrimage. It was a journey I felt compelled to take. We stand on the shoulders of giants.