Yes, I see you down there
looking up into my vastness.
What are you hoping
to find on my vacant face,
there within the margins
of telephone wires?
You should know I am only
bright blue now because of physics:
molecules break and scatter
my light from the sun
more than any other color.
You know my variations—
azure at noon, navy by midnight.
How often I find you
then on your patio, pajamaed
and distressed, head thrown
back so your eyes can pick apart
not the darker version of myself
but the carousel of stars.
To you I am merely background.
You barely hear my voice.
Remember I am most vibrant
when air breaks my light.
Do something with your brokenness.
~David Hernandez “Sincerely, The Sky”
I probably spend too much time looking up at the sky – waking early to see what colors are being painted across the horizon and rushing through chores to try to catch the last streaks of orange in the west.
Yet the vast and overwhelming vistas tape together the fragments left of my day; I have been sliced and diced into 15 minute segments, trying hard to be the glue for others who arrive shattered into pieces.
I am a broken witness as Someone choreographs the movement, the shapes, the colors and the light.
So much to be done with brokenness.