Clumsy — awkward steps across the hall — Childlike stomps beyond the wall.
My heart skips a beat.
Is it you? Are you home?
Stealth — I meld with the shadows — I limber lithely behind the arch.
Eager to surprise you with my smile.
Are you near? Is it your footsteps I hear?
Shouts — call out your name — voice cracks through the silence.
We melt into each other’s arms.
My child is home.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
This is for d’Verse mtb.
If only …….
I have had a break from writing. This is largely because I was exhausted and needed to use as much energy as possible focusing on recentring and bringing some sense and order into what had inadvertently become a very complex and draining period of my life.
From this I have learned that shutting down has some favourable benefits so long as you continue to give yourself time to reenergise and re-focus.
There is only so much that one brain and one body can handle without exhibiting signs of stress and wear. Things were going wrong at every turn. It seemed like there was no end in sight nor even a small glimmer of hope on the horizon. I had to cut back to the bare minium, doing the things that needed to be done and prioritising aspects of my life that would enhance my ability to survive and bring solutions to our immediate problems and needs.
After two months of gruelling toil we seem to have at least some solutions in hand. Yesterday I started a new job and hopefully this will provide the stability and purpose that has been needed to fulfil the desire to belong and be of value.
Returning after such an extended period of time away brought with it a huge reverse cultural shock and I discovered the qualities that were of value in NZ were not of the same value here and that times had changed and that my place in society was no longer that of respected citizen of value and worth and that to all intents and purposes I was replaceable, aged and worthless. My survival therefore depended on my ability to adapt and accept the changes and get on with it to the best of my ability- regardless of any hopes, dreams and aspirations that I had thought realistic before we returned home.
There were days that my awareness that this might be as good as it gets was the best I could muster. Days where potential tragedy loomed large around the every corner and the fine line between survival and anihilation was rendered invisible.
The sun shone, life moved on. I lived and breathed and took time to value the world before my eyes, trusting that one day there would be small opportunities for change that would help open new doors and windows to let the sun stream in and liberate the gloom.
Hopefully this is the first page in a new chapter that will bring peace, friendship, connection, love, purposefulness and place.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
Sometimes you have to be still.
Sometimes you have to pause, ponder and be patient
And trust that time heals
That pain yields
Gives way to peaceful easing
And we are born again into a new beginning, a new being and a new belonging.
It has been a while
But sometimes you have to be still.
© Alison Jean Hankinson
They say a stitch in time saves nine
But who knows that we are broken
When our smiles catch the light and we mesmerise with our stories of hope
And our lives unfold like a picture book
Full of Princes, Princesses and perfection
No poverty here, no lack of good cheer- no sleep deprived hell
Or whispers of madness.
They say a stitch in time saves nine
But who knows we are broken
When we give with compassion
And our public persona is playfully convivial,
Full of charismatic colourful conversation disguising the trivial.
No hidden hopelessness here, no silent solitude, no depth of despair
Or signals of worthlessness wounding within.
We march on.
We playfully tease.
We make small talk
With skillful ease.
We wish you had seen our innermost thoughts.
We wish you had been a true friend of sorts.
We wish you had held out your hand to take ours.
We wish you had noticed that whilst we spoke through flowers
We were broken, bereft, beyond all life’s care.
All we wanted was you to be there, to lift up our spirits
Make the sun shine,
And be the stitch in time that saves nine.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
I wrote this for a prompt earlier in the week at d”verse but missed the widget, so here it is for open link night. Love to you all. XXXXX Love for the lost. XXXX
This is my first post in quite a few weeks. It was a glorious May, the weather was sunny and bright and the fields, shrubs and trees blossomed. For me though, I needed to conserve energy, close in and give myself room to breathe.
It was a time of despair, frustration, discord, reassessment, consolidation and repair. It took time and it took silence. Time to listen to the sounds and focus on the real things and let go of the white noise and the humdrum and the background churnings that distract and destroy.
I continually ask myself what it is that is important- to me, to others, to our world. I am not sure I have the answers, I am not sure they are the right questions, I just know that the disillusionment of the last year sapped my energy greatly and I must remember not to let myself get sucked in again by its draining darkness. I can still believe in what seems right to me, it is not for others to decide by either their actions or inactions, I still get to choose what I feel, how I greet each day, how I process the events that happen to me and around me. This helps me get up and reach for a new day, a new dream a new horizon. I am not broken, just bruised and a little misshapen and the bruises will heal in time.
Carpe diem- seize the day. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
©Alison Jean Hankinson
I will not falter
I will not fall
I will not bend and break
This is not your call.
I will stand my ground with shoulders squared
I will keep my faith even when you lose yours,
I will trust in truth and walk tall with head held high.
You shall not define me or my dreams deny.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
A final one for mental health awareness week 2018. I think this one is about getting back up again…
Still silent seamless sorrow as the shadows of the day recede
My loss and longing washes over me
And it feels like my heart might bleed.
To carry both of you with me across the seas of need
I long to have your hands to hold
And from this endless ache be freed.
Love sets us free to chase our dreams
Make no mistaking there
But the hollow place inside of me, still wishes you were here.
© Alison Jean Hankinson
For Mental Health Awareness Week 2018.
For my girls. Whom I love, every day and more. For my Ellen across the seas. Some days leave a gaping chasm of loss. Hold your children tight when they are small if you are going to give them wings to fly. XXXXX
I am sharing this for open link night on d’Verse and of course the hand holding is part of the theme. For my beautiful girls. XXXX
We are Phoenix we rise above
we fly high against the backdrop
Of a twilight sky
And leave you dead and cold.
Let your sallow soul grow old amongst the bones of those who told
The shallow lie you heard amongst my teardrops.
Crystal clear
No malice here
I grace the air with wings of gold.
My heart unfolds with truth and beauty, pure love and loyalty
I am Phoenix.
I rise above.
©Alison Jean Hankinson.
Image creative commons free to use from pixabay.
Each moment is distinct
it may or may not relate to the preceding moment
it may or may not be followed by a moment of equal or even greater magnitude
it is what it is- a moment.
It will pass
It will be superseded
It will be vanquished, resurrected, redefined, it will shine redolent as the star in its own story
And then be gone….to make way for the next moment.
Always remember this.
It is but a moment.
unremarkable yet remarkable
It will pass.
© Alison Jean Hankinson
I first published this in 2018 for Mental health Awareness week, but have made some small edits. It was World Suicide Prevention Day on Sunday 10th September. Suicide has a profound impact on all whom are touched by it, and I certainly don’t have any answers, but I know in my heart of hearts that what looks just so in one moment, can look entirely different in the next moment.
I think this is what I was trying to capture.
This is for Open Link Night at d’Verse.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old,
We remember them each and everyone, every year, it is our duty
We solemnly speak their names, we treasure their memories in our hallowed halls
We honour their fate on memorials and museum walls.
Kick back, flashlight, night flare
We are back there
I do solemnly swear to bring honour and bear witness
To my country but he is missing in action.
tap tap….clack clack…. frack frack
I scour the wall of missing people.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
First line taken from For the Fallen- by Laurence Binyon. Last line taken from “Leaving time” Jodi Picoult. For Bridging the Gap at d’Verse.
Hues of Hankinson 