“ While we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one ” (Dumbledore – “Goblet of Fire”). I am young and immersed in the cinematic world of Harry Potter . Dumbledore greets students with these words and I vow to never forget them. It’s the last year of high school, and I have chosen this as my senior quote. People laugh, but they do not know the comfort and content that Harry Potter brings me. Years later, I say this quote to my students. There are a million differences amongst us, but what connects humanity? Our love, passion, and heart. Everyone goes
How it all ends. The pavement is damp under my black flats as I walk across the parking lot. The weather is freezing and mad at me as it whips around. Climbing into the Jeep, I situate before leaving. Heat on full blast. Coffee cup, still half full and chilled from the remnants of earlier chaos, slips into the holder. The music shuffles. I shuffle it again. Lately, I am becoming disinterested with many of my former music selections. Finally, a bearable song plays through the speakers. I put the car in reverse and leave. As I pull out of the parking lot, my mind lingers on the act of reversing a car.
Are you there? With so many dead ends And spiraling roads to nowhere I ask why you Why you A final roll call With one person missing While the officer finishes His last drop of whiskey Screaming out broken windows Cutting your hands trying to fix my heart You broke me But I broke you first The way pavement smells In the rain How come You never stayed? Each day The mirror shattered A mosaic of lies What a beautiful (fucked up) story You created For our eyes. Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying my content please visit https://medium.com/@hannahladuke to check out more!
She looked up at me as I finished reciting poetry I’d scribbled down earlier. “Wow, I can’t believe you are so creative”. For years I hid my writing, only to be shown to my sister, the only other soul who placed value in my passion. A critic, a lover, and an honest reviewer, her words mean the most. When she said those 8 words, I was blown away. Am I creative? Unknowingly, my sister has given me approval to be creative with my words once again. The article “You Are Not An Artist” deeply resonated with me. The author describes a journey much like mine, skewed with opinionated