The Alembic

Read by Ella Bloom.

What is The Alembic?

We’re thrilled to introduce you to a brand-new chapter in The Alembic’s history. For the first time ever, we’re offering an audio edition of the journal—an exciting new endeavor for 2025. In this edition, you’ll hear every written piece read aloud by Providence College students, bringing a new dimension and life to the written word.

It just doesn’t come as easily anymore
Do I sit at the stoop or do I walk through the door
Is it futile to hang onto every last line
How can I be sure that these memories are mine
They unravel gently as I clutch them and run
Who knew that a memory could come undone
Am I meant to feel remorse for these things that I stole
Must I be a thief to make my world seem whole

Often I watched people disappear from view
The places I loved, well, they vanished too
There has to be a method to ensure they all stay
It wasn’t enough to know I had today
For what is the present without the past
A meaningless blip that we try to make last
So we swallow some warmth to keep the hunger at bay
We all dip into our pasts when the sun slips away

The thief stands opposing the powers of time
The thief does not believe they have committed any crime
Better to be stolen, or bartered, or lost
A fading memory should not have a cost
I was a thief, but what did I really take
A memory already starting to splinter and break
It is not a trade or a gift or a loan
I steal these memories to make them my own

When the reservoir of memory runs out what can we do
Must we break down all the dams and tear ourselves in two
This is not the way that I choose to hold
Onto the days that are looking more yellow than gold
The thief finds the memories of those they love most

The thief excavates them and holds them so close
What use is a memory to those who seldom care
What use is the windy beach if he cannot remember me there

If time would never allow me to return
I would create my reality from the bridges that I burned
I would start a fire so deep inside
That you could hear it crackling if I opened my mouth wide
And all of the memories stored so neatly in my head
Would be ruined by the smoke of the words I’ve never said
For the thief that once believed they could make the warmth last
Did nothing more than create kindling for the fire of their past.