Poem Lest We Forget Novels & Stories

Ash didn’t speak. He just opened to a dog eared page and handed it over. The poem was underlined in fading ink. I am made of all the people I’ve ever loved, even the ones I tried to forget. Even the one who left and never came back even him, most of all. August looked up, trembling. Ash whispered, “You remember now. Don’t you?” And for the first time, August didn’t lie. “…Yes.”

“We owe it to them, to remember their sacrifices and to ensure their legacies live on.” Athena steps forward, her voice steady as she addresses the gathering. “In the face of adversity, we have lost many brave souls. They fought for our future, and it is our duty to keep their memory alive. Let us take a moment of silence in their honor.” The pack bow their heads, a palpable sense of reverence enveloping them. I close my eyes, envisioning the faces of those who have fallen, friends, family, warriors. Each memory is a thread woven into the fabric of our community, reminding me of the strength that lay in our history.

Then he looked at his Dad “D-dad.” “Thank God you remember me.” “Kuya. What about me?” This time it was Gravity “Gravity.” He called “W-What happened to me? why is that, why do I remember so little. I can't remember everything?” I cried, he can’t remember. He can only remember little “Kuya do you remember her?” Gravity pointed me to his brother “Answer me!” “Don’t shout Grav..” I said “I-I don't I’m sorry... who are you?” He looked at me

Fearing. "You must forget them." The Forgotten One says simply. "Your mates. Your family. Your love. You return to life. You live your mortal years. You die naturally. Immune to the Absolute because you forgot why you wanted to live. Forgot who you loved. Forgot what made you desperate. You become immune through amnesia. Protected through forgetting. Free through loss." Horror crashes through my fading consciousness. "I have to forget my family? My mates? My Luna? My Hope? Everyone I love? That's the price?"

Though the storm rocks our boats and the gentle wind eases our rows, our peace still ebbs and flows, because until our eyes are fixed beyond the sun, our nostrils will know less roses than our skin the thorns. In a of white and black world, let's be just enough to repel these filthy shades of grey. Karma is a poet, so please the arms that make you less a prey, because until our eyes are fixed beyond the sun, our nostrils will know less roses than our skin the thorns. So let us milk the cow while it is still dawn, for the night comes, when only the diligent will be able to admire the milk he weighed. Even if the sun rises on our evening wake, time will surely set on our wasted years, then our

At the people rising from the ashes of forgetting. He squared his shoulders. “Now,” he said, “we unmake the world they buried.”

“Graham, will you be my child in our next life? “Give me a chance to make things right.” Furrowing my brows in dread, I hastened my pace into the light. No one could stop me from becoming a happy and mindless single-celled microorganism.

It simply softens them until they no longer sting. I think that’s what healing really is not forgetting, but remembering differently. Before I sleep, I check my emails. There’s one unread message from the poetry studio they want to feature one of my pieces on their site. I laugh softly, surprised. I scroll through the list of poems I’ve written, and my eyes land on the one that started it all the first poem after he left. It was titled “The Weight of Letting Go.” I open it, read the first few lines, and realize how far I’ve come.

His mind was a vacuum, and the Logic’s pure data began to rush into him. "You think 'Forgetting' is a failure," Leo projected, his eyes turning a brilliant, terrifying white. "But forgetting is the only way we make room for Tomorrow. If we remember everything, we are prisoners of the past. If we are perfect, we have no reason to breathe." The Final Variable

I let her taunt slide and turned to Kane on the bed, pain and disbelief burning in my eyes. "Get his memory back?" I gave a brittle smile. My voice hitched, like I was already about to cry, like her thoughtless cruelty had just broken something in me. "Don't you know, Selena?" I faced her, my voice raw with betrayal. "Mnemowort is a cure for ordinary wolves. But for Kane, whose wolf is grievously wounded, any herb that forces his memories back is deadly poison!" My voice spiked, hoarse with fear. "That'll cage his broken wolf in those splintered memories, ripping at him over and over! Whenever he thinks back, it'll feel like his wolf is being torn open all over again!