By Diana Richtman
One day I will tell you all the stories,
and I will show you how the universe unfolds
itself to me with ink stains and so few stars.
One day I will tell you the story
of the man that said little girl,
don’t stand too close to the fire,
you’ll burn yourself. And I will tell you
how the woman responded
when will you ever learn?
I am the fire.
One day when I figure it all out,
I will tell you everything
so that you will know how to wake up gently
when the alarm goes off
and you will stop feeling as though this life
is a disappointment to you,
and you are a disappointment to this life.
One day I promise I’ll tell you the story
of the mother that said to her daughter
the world is so cold.
Don’t be the fire that destroys it;
be the fire that warms it.
One day I’ll tell you the story
of the girl who lit the whole world,
who through embers and flame
burned out the age-old disease within herself.
But today I will wake up with a groan
as the alarm goes off.
And I will eat my breakfast in the car.
And I will hear criticism, imaginary or not,
like a windstorm from all sides.
And today I will read other people’s stories
And today I will learn a little more
about how the clocks tick and the stars burn.
And today my fire builds through
wind and words, and one day
I promise I’ll share every last detail.
Diana Richtman begins her first year at the University of Georgia in the fall of 2017. She plans to study anything that will help her continue to tell stories. This is her first published piece.