Episode 5: The Day the Sky Broke Open
Hi everyone, I hope you’re doing as well as you can. We didn’t have a submission this week, so today’s poem reflects something that’s been on my heart—the paradox between “tomorrow isn’t promised” and “there’s no rush.” As a young person with dreams, this is difficult to navigate at times, especially since I’ve personally experienced the deaths of several young people in my life, and we’re witnessing mass youth death across the globe. With this in mind, I’ve caught myself asking: how dare I take my time with a project that might be needed yesterday. But I also know that intentionality, thoughtfulness, and patience are deeply essential responsibilities. And they require space and rest. This poem walks between these lines, even though I don’t have an explicit answer. I hope you enjoy it.
I’ll share it with you now:
Today I watched
the sky break apart.
It was indecipherable
from the clouds,
disintegrating into pinches
of pale dust.
I wouldn’t have decrypted
ash versus snow
had it not been late November.
Both still and rushed,
rolling and flurrying,
slow and sprinting,
and whether idly passing through above
or plummeting to snow piles below,
accumulating the same white cotton candy.
It made me ask myself about a paradox:
tomorrow isn’t promised—seize the day, and,
there is no rush—slow down.
“If I take my time,
mindfully and thoughtfully,
my dream will breathe one day.
And I will feel better living it.
But I must pant it into practice today,
because what if I don’t live to tomorrow?”
We see living life to the fullest
through the lens of a capitalistic, front-loaded life
where, in truth, rest takes sundry steps
like the Earth—
with many operations at once
not many chores.
Like sky, clouds, and snow—all the colour of wintered world.
Like songs, lyrics, and poems—all the language of metamorphic music.
Like working, resting, and capering—all the oxygen of fertile life.
I don’t have an answer
about why this paradox
cracks us open.
But I do know, at just 25,
that chasing dreams
demands delay if we rush—
if we believe that
we’re only worthy of them
if we witness their birthright inhale faster.
But we’ve already met them,
in the core of our being not doing,
And if we’re not careful,
the fluid in their lungs
won’t be ready for air
if we’re not breathing steadily first.
Breathe the words in. What do they make you feel or think? How did they connect with your senses? What colours or symbols did you notice? What meaning did you draw? Metaphors? Interpretations? Clarity? Messages?
