They come in flocks, to pay homage to Hadrian.
It is a pilgrimage of sorts, they walk, they cycle, they tread the Roman way,
Along Hadrian’s wall.
All the way from Tynemouth in the East
Coast to coast, a formidable trek,
But it was our home long before it became their rite of passage.
Mum loved it here. The Solway, Port Carlisle, Bowness on Solway,
St Michaels Church- in all its 12th century glory,
Magnificent against the backdrop of late summer sun.
She would wander through the gravestones,
And ponder on the lives of those laid to rest.
Listen to the birdsong and the lap-lapping of the incoming tide.
Dad and I take her flowers, more of an amble than a walk,
We sit a while, feel the onshore breeze, look for driftwood,
Taste the salt of the outgoing tide
And wonder if Hadrian’s footsteps trod this hallowed ground before us.
One day perhaps I will walk the full length of the wall
To make my own final pilgrimage.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
This is my offering for Poetics, still blowing the cobwebs off. We needed to think about a walk. This was my outing with my Dad last week on Mum’s 15th anniversary.
d’Verse Poetics with Lillian
Hues of Hankinson 