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Narrator
It's major as we take a look back at the Slowdown's deep well of episodes, we're revisiting some standout moments from past hosts. Today, we're going into the Vault to bring you an episode from Tracy K. Smith, one of the voices that helped shape the Slowdown into what it is today. This is just one of the many special selections from our archives.
Tracy K. Smith
I'm Tracy K. SM and this is the Slowdown. The other morning at around 3am I woke to a blood curdling scream coming from my son's room. My children are dramatic. They they wail and howl as easily as they burst into raucous laughter. Often I try to ignore their histrionics, hoping it will wean them of the habit. But my instinct in this particular moment wasn't to ignore it. Heart racing, practically bursting from my chest, I ran to their room and what did I find? A minor dispute. Sterling had crawled into bed with Atticus. Atticus wanted his bed to himself. I lay with Sterling until he fell back to sleep. The whole time I felt all of my senses struggle to decelerate. My heart was like a drum solo. It felt like someone was pounding on my chest. While I lay there, I flipped through my mental Rolodex of workday vexation. I ticked off the headlines that even on a good day, hamper my ability to unwind. Lying there, struggling to relax, egged on by the actual bothers, my work week forces me to wrestle, I understood something. Many people live like this on a regular basis, the peril, the worry, the blood pressure roiling when you wake up and people doubt you, threaten you, overstep respectful bounds when leaders utter slurs against you, when every day the deck already stacked against you is reshuffled. Today's poem is a brief meditation on breath by Jesenia Montilla. I have divers lungs from holding my breath for so long. I promise you I am not trying to break a record. Sometimes I just forget to exhale, my shoulders held tightly near my neck. I am a ball of tense living a tumbleweed with steel toed boots. I can't remember the last time I felt light as dandelion. I can't remember the last time I took the sweetness in and my diaphragm expanded into song. They tell me breathing is everything, meaning if I breathe right I can live to be ancient. I'll grow a soft furry tail or be telekinetic, something powerful enough to heal the world. I swear I thought the last time I'd think of death with breath was that balmy day in July when the cops became a raging fire and sucked the breath out of Garner. But Yesterday I walked 38 blocks to my father's house with a mask over my nose and mouth, the sweat dripping off my chin, only to get caught in fabric and pool up like rain. And I inhaled small spurts of me, little particles of my DNA. I took into body my own self and thought I'd die from so much exposure to my own bereavement. They're saying this virus takes your breath away. Not like a mother's love or like a good kiss from your lover's soft mouth. But like the police, it can kill you fast or slow. Dealer's choice. A pallbearer carrying your body without a casket. They say it's so contagious it could be quite breathtaking. So persistent it might as well be breathing down your neck. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts on the web@arts.gov.
Micah
Hi everyone, it's Micah, lead producer of the Slowdown. I want to take a minute to talk to you about public media. You may have heard about federal budget cuts and other threats to public media, but what you might not know is that the Slowdown is actually part of the public media ecosystem. If you want to protect your favorite public media podcasts like this one, visit american public media.org action to learn how you can help.
Summary of [Encore] 496: A Brief Meditation on Breath by Yesenia Montilla
The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily brings listeners a curated selection of poetry paired with thoughtful reflections. In this encore episode, released on May 12, 2025, host Tracy K. Smith revisits a poignant piece by Yesenia Montilla titled "A Brief Meditation on Breath." This episode delves deep into the intersections of personal experience, societal tension, and the fundamental act of breathing.
This episode is a special encore presentation featuring Tracy K. Smith, a former host of The Slowdown. By tapping into the podcast's rich archives, Smith introduces listeners to Montilla's evocative poem, setting the stage for a profound meditation on breath and its broader implications.
Tracy begins with a personal anecdote that seamlessly transitions into the themes of the poem:
[01:35] Tracy K. Smith: "The other morning at around 3am I woke to a blood curdling scream coming from my son's room. My children are dramatic. They wail and howl as easily as they burst into raucous laughter."
She describes the intense emotions and physical sensations she experienced during this late-night disturbance:
[02:10] Tracy K. Smith: "Heart racing, practically bursting from my chest, I ran to their room and what did I find? A minor dispute."
This narration serves as a metaphor for the internal and external struggles that individuals face daily, setting the emotional groundwork for Montilla's poem.
After her reflection, Tracy introduces the poem, highlighting its relevance to contemporary issues:
[05:55] Tracy K. Smith: "Today's poem is a brief meditation on breath by Yesenia Montilla."
Tracy delivers Montilla's poem with heartfelt emotion, emphasizing the fragility and strength intertwined in the act of breathing:
[06:00] A Brief Meditation on Breath
I have divers lungs from holding my breath for so long. I promise you I am not trying to break a record. Sometimes I just forget to exhale, my shoulders held tightly near my neck.
I can't remember the last time I felt light as dandelion. I can't remember the last time I took the sweetness in and my diaphragm expanded into song.
Throughout the poem, Montilla weaves personal struggle with broader societal challenges, touching upon themes like stress, oppression, and the lingering impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic:
Yesterday I walked 38 blocks to my father's house with a mask over my nose and mouth, the sweat dripping off my chin, only to get caught in fabric and pool up like rain.
They're saying this virus takes your breath away. Not like a mother's love or like a good kiss from your lover's soft mouth. But like the police, it can kill you fast or slow.
These lines poignantly capture the duality of breath as both a life-sustaining force and a symbol of vulnerability against systemic forces.
Tracy's introduction and the poem together offer a multifaceted exploration of breath beyond its biological function. The poem serves as a metaphor for various forms of restraint—be it emotional, societal, or physical. By recounting her own experiences of anxiety and maternal responsibility, Tracy bridges the personal with the universal, allowing listeners to find resonance in Montilla's words.
The references to the pandemic and police brutality ground the poem in specific historical contexts, highlighting how external factors can deeply influence one's internal state. The imagery of "inhaling small spurts of me, little particles of my DNA" speaks to introspection and the inescapable presence of one's identity amidst chaos.
This encore episode of The Slowdown masterfully intertwines personal narrative with powerful poetry to offer listeners a moment of reflection. Through Tracy K. Smith's heartfelt presentation and Yesenia Montilla's evocative verses, the episode invites us to contemplate the essence of breath as a symbol of life, struggle, and resilience.
[01:35] "The other morning at around 3am I woke to a blood curdling scream coming from my son's room."
[02:10] "Heart racing, practically bursting from my chest, I ran to their room and what did I find? A minor dispute."
[05:55] "Today's poem is a brief meditation on breath by Yesenia Montilla."
[06:00] "I have divers lungs from holding my breath for so long. I promise you I am not trying to break a record."
[06:15] "Yesterday I walked 38 blocks to my father's house with a mask over my nose and mouth, the sweat dripping off my chin, only to get caught in fabric and pool up like rain."
This detailed exploration of "A Brief Meditation on Breath" not only honors the poem's depth but also exemplifies The Slowdown's commitment to fostering a deeper understanding of our shared human experiences through the art of poetry.