Sounds of silence

Footfalls through the frost

Whispers on the wind,

Stillness in the stars,

Grubby chubby little hands

Seeking out shells on the shoreline.

Moments of magic in motherhood.

Memories fall like raindrops from the skies

Teardrops in my eyes

as I cherish every second of your lives.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Love you always wherever you may be-Mumma.

 

I think I have been silent for quite a while and now it is time to break the silence. I realise that so much of what I am and what I have done with my life and what I have become is linked to becoming a mother.

For me there was never any doubt that it was a fundamental part of what I held as important-not excelling in a sport or becoming a great leader or even the top of my career but giving and nurturing as best I could new members of the human race. I didn’t always do the job well, but I mostly did my best with the time and resources that I had at my disposal at the time.

I was always clear in my own mind that each would become their own person and make their own way in life and that in some respects all that I was doing was giving them some tools for their life basket and a safe place to grow. So it was a sprinkling of knowledge, a touch of high spiritedness, add in resilience backbone and compassion for others. I always wanted them to fly the nest and soar in the winds in their own little worlds build their own castles in the air and thrive and survive and have soul.

They have moved into their own lives now, almost effortlessly without a backwards glance and yet I know that they will always be connected. I don’t think the umbilical cord is ever truly broken and just as I will always carry my own mother in my heart even though she is long since gone I think they too will always carry a part of me in their hearts and so the story goes, the ebb and flow, mother to child.

The legacy of a superhero.

Hopes and dreams like ripples across the water,

The moon casts it light surreal across the surface.

An abundance of voices remember and connect.

Your existence and your inner beauty left a shadow on my life

You reach beyond the grave and you continue to create your magic

Through my footfalls and my hands.

And through the light that continues to shine in the eyes of all those whom you touched.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

We had a prompt on d’Verse and it was about “super” and of course I think our lives and pasts are actually littered with so many superheroes and I think they leave a living legacy in that they touch our lives and change who we are and what we become.

I learned about the heroes of the cotton famine this week, and it made me proud of my ancestors, we stand on the shoulders of giants, and it is sad to say goodbye to Prof Hawking who has been a true superhero to so many. This poem was written about Princess Diana. The images at the bottom relate to the heroes of the Cotton Famine the Lancashire Cotton Mill workers.

The image of Diana was from the public domain and able to be reproduced.

Count your blessings…

Here it is- (I’m sorry- I tried)

The moment of realisation

That we didn’t make it big.

 

But on a day like today, I count my blessings,

It is good to be alive and thrive inside

in spite of the complexities of life.

 

Why worry? Why ruminate

On what could have been,

When we can celebrate the beauty and the bounty of all that we behold.

 

With fragile threads we weave our stories

Try to fasten our futures on to what we hold dear

We take so much for granted, and we often fear

 

The void, the loss, the loneliness, the finite ending.

We should instead let our spirits soar and hold this beautiful moment

In our memory for eternity.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

I wanted to use this for OLN at d’Verse as it is something I need to remind myself about. The sunset tonight was simply magnificent and no matter how complex and difficult life is there is still much to be thankful for. Perhaps this year that is what I shall have as my resolution “Let our spirits soar.”

The beauty of imperfection.

In d’Verse we were asked to focus on imperfection for our haibun Monday Wabi-Sabi. My haiku isn’t a proper one as it is human.13411939_10209544645598467_2234712537344072344_o

Today I started my new job and met some new work colleagues. One beautiful lady was in the office with her baby, she was on maternity leave but had come in to share the joy of this young man. He looked beautiful and his arms were so open and he looked so uncurled and yet it took me back to the arrival of my girls. Ellen emerged in a state of perfect relaxation, but Emily’s arrival was more stark and primaeval, the screams were of real anger and short-lived. She was whisked off to the SCBU within the hour when I told the nurses it sounded like she was barking. Unbeknown to us the damage was already done.

Emily was diagnosed with cerebral palsy in the November on my birthday,  was classed as having spasticity in all four quadrants and we were told she might never walk. Ellen and Emily worked together on this and she walked at 16 months old. We just carried on as best we could and she has achieved so much in her 18 years so far, and her imperfections are actually just a part of her surreal beauty and magical character. What she has achieved so far in her young life is way and above what many people without such obvious imperfections achieve. I told some of my story and was horrified at the irony-all is not what it seems and this little fellow had a similar story, but my little girl with her imperfections is nothing short of inspiration for others who are treading these uncertain imperfect waters.

Winter frost beckons
Stiff frozen imperfections
Sibling love melts ice.

©Alison Jean Hankinson