Debris by Huda Zavery

I still remember the days when you would soar across the open skies
Arms outstretched in the air
Ready to catch anything that would come in your way
But then one day, you didn’t catch a breeze, made a wrong turn
And winded up with handfuls of debris and disappointment
So you stopped trying
You folded yourself in
Crumbled yourself into a ball
Like an unfinished poem you’d scrunch up and toss over your shoulder
When you decide you don’t want to finish it
But darling, you’re being too hard on yourself
You aren’t allowing yourself space to make mistakes
Forcing yourself to walk when you have yet to learn to crawl
Take it easy
The world is a safe place to make mistakes
Mistakes are what make us up
So uncrumble yourself, unfold
Smoothen out your old creases and fold yourself into an origami bird instead
No matter how many times you mess up, the sun still rises again every morning to remind you that it is not the end of the world
Even though it may feel like it is sometimes
You can’t touch yesterday, so why in the world are you letting it touch you?
Tear out the pages of your old journals, and set them to flames
The past is in the past; it’s never coming back
All that’s left of the past is fading memories, lessons learnt, and pages going up into smoke
None of which can hurt you
Just take advantage of the past
Use it as your guidance
Don’t be afraid to outstretch your arms again
It’ll be alright, darling
You’re alright

About the Poet
Huda Zavery, is 16 years old, from Toronto, Ontario. She is a published poet and novelist, and her book “The Art of Letting Go” is available at