Join us for Writer’s Quote Wednesday. This week’s challenge word is ‘REBIRTH.’
Children of an eastern suburb of London, who have been made homeless by the random bombs of the Nazi night raiders, waiting outside the wreckage of what was their home. September 1940. New Times Paris Bureau Collection. (USIA) Exact Date Shot Unknown NARA FILE #: 306-NT-3163V WAR & CONFLICT BOOK #: 1009
Yesterday, I saw a video posted on Youtube of J.K. Rowling, talking about failure, It is one of the most heart wrenching and inspiring things I’ve ever seen and so jammed packed with fabulous quotes that I could NOT pick just one and chose to add a link to the short segment. It’s only around 2 minutes, and part of a longer address to graduating Harvard Students.
Please take a look at J.K. Rowling on the benefits of failure
To say this video knocked me sideways, is an understatement. It prompted me to write the piece below, and I realized – as I was writing – that we really must DIE to be truly reborn. The old J.K. died, the old was burned away and, left with a pen and paper, she wrote her new life as she wanted it to be.
This is how I see my own rebirth:
MY OWN STORY
The house looks like it’s been bombed.
Photos of hope still adorn broken walls,
Betrayed smiles staring back at me.
The bricks and mortar of a life –
Thoughtlessly, callously, strewn –
And trust lies, shattered, on the bedroom floor.
If I stay here, I will end here
If I have not already gone
The air is poisoned and there’s nothing to sustain me
But I stare through cracked and dirty windows
Looking for a sign,
And I see nothing.
I remember back
To long ago
When I believed in magic
And I seek my trusty wand
Poking out from beneath someone else’s dream,
It calls to me
But it’s broken in two pieces
From the battle.
I hold them in my hands and lift them high
WHAT IS MAGIC FOR, IF NOT FOR THIS?
I grasp one piece of wand and sketch a portal
On one unbroken stretch of wall
And then I draw a handle
Then a lock
I draw myself a key.
I TURN THE KEY…
There is nothing on the outside of the portal.
Like walking into a whiteout
And so I crawl
And draw myself a path.
A path AWAY
A path TOWARDS
On my knees…
I WRITE MY OWN STORY NOW…
Wendy Anne Darling, 2016.