One of my favorite parts of doing our Live events is how stories create MORE stories. How by coming together to share our experiences, we create a new shared experience. It's this very reason we've started the Storycatchers Live Afterglow series - to capture the beauty and significance that telling our stories brings to both the tellers and the audience that hears them.
Storycatchers' own Katie Chicquette Adams penned this beautiful poem when she got home tonight, and it perfectly weaves the stories and experiences we've shared. Did coming inspire you to write something or to maybe feel something you wouldn't have otherwise? Be sure to send us an e-mail and we'll feature your voice here as well!
What I Want is a Story to Tell
What I want
is a story
to tell:
in the words
of all the songs
I ever learned
or wrote,
the laughter
I wrung from
a feat gone awry,
the lesson
I took from
the words
I ate.
I want to know
all the words
forever--
I want to sing
along every
single time;
I want to do
my best, twirling
in my brilliant
dancer’s coat,
to get across that
dance floor
with my dignity,
no matter who
is waiting
in the shadows,
no matter what
fool I make
of myself,
because at least
I am my
own fool.
I want to know
that the sakura
still blossoms,
against horizon
beyond horizon;
I want to hear
the bad news
as good news,
my relief that
warring madness
has not stolen
my horizon
against another
glowing, swelling
horizon.
I want to laugh
at the folly of
my life--
the truth that
reminds us to be
completely sure
of nothing--
because your
own dog might
abandon you
(it could happen).
I want to laugh
when my best
efforts to craft
childhood perfection
go ironically awry
and result in my
children throwing
rocks at my friends
(it could happen).
I want to sit so still
I forget the time
and listen to all
the old words
assembled in a
new way,
delivered by
voices
dissimilar,
familiar--
voices I might
not have heard
if I hadn’t been
pushed or pulled,
touched on the
arm, prodded
to dare.
I’ll forget the time,
but not the words--
I’ll take them home,
written on the back
of my hand: I could
fill my arms with
all these words,
no matter how blunt
or dark or sweet
or comically twisted.
I want to know
that no matter
where I lie down,
I will get back up--
get up so I can
do it all again,
because
what I want
is a story
to tell,
and you
to give me
a story to
keep.
Thank you Katie for these beautiful words, to all of the tellers who shared something of themselves with us, and for all of you who came out and packed the venue, sincerest apologizes those we had to turn away at the door - thank you for being a part of the story and for carrying that story out into your world.
