{"id":2640,"date":"2022-05-24T12:56:22","date_gmt":"2022-05-24T10:56:22","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/?p=2640"},"modified":"2022-05-24T12:56:22","modified_gmt":"2022-05-24T10:56:22","slug":"instruction-on-how-to-forget-me","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/2022\/05\/instruction-on-how-to-forget-me\/","title":{"rendered":"Instructions on how to forget me"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Author:<\/strong> Mel A. Riverwood<\/p>\n\n\n

Some people never hear the silence talk.<\/p>\n

But to me, it screams, with every tick of the clock,<\/p>\n

It says I will die, though I already know,<\/p>\n

And tells me someday I won\u2019t feel anymore;<\/p>\n

What could that feel like, to not feel?<\/p>\n

Do the dead still live?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I know I am young, I should not have such thoughts,<\/p>\n

\u2018Forget, forget,\u2019 they say, \u2018forget time and laugh!\u2019<\/p>\n

But I feel death, and her hands are so cold;<\/p>\n

They freeze all my dreams and everything I long for<\/p>\n

And hold in their palms all the fear that I hold.<\/p>\n

I wish to see spring and hear birdsong forevermore;<\/p>\n

But the taste of the end is ever so near,<\/p>\n

So I beg of you, blue and green mother, don\u2019t let me disappear.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

How I wish the whole world sang my humble refrain;<\/p>\n

I knew not that hope came with such shattering pain.<\/p>\n

I would give it all, but my words, just for a little more<\/p>\n

Time and to live and live and live and live,<\/p>\n

And encore;<\/p>\n

Forevermore.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I am selfish and lonely, I am childish and afraid;<\/p>\n

I would watch the world fade if it meant that I stayed.<\/p>\n

Please, someone tell me, just tell me, where do we go?<\/p>\n

Where do we go?<\/p>\n

Where do we go?<\/em><\/p>\n

WHERE DO WE GO?<\/em><\/p>\n

Where do we go once we feel no more?<\/p>\n

What are we then? How do we exist?<\/p>\n

Please, someone tell me we have much more than this.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I will always know this fear that steals my thin breath,<\/p>\n

But begging time for mercy will not work on death.<\/p>\n

So please, remember me, for as long as you can,<\/p>\n

But if the world is to forget, then let me fade as I am:<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

When my ink-stained fingers will be writing no more,<\/p>\n

Bury me in a forest and bury me on the shore;<\/p>\n

For I cannot die where I cannot hear the sea,<\/p>\n

And I cannot live where the blackbirds don\u2019t sing.<\/p>\n

But when you inearth me, please keep my hair<\/p>\n

And burn it, then scatter it in the air.<\/p>\n

So with my body to soil and water, and my locks through fire to wind,<\/p>\n

I may finally be everything.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u2018What of thy mind?\u2019 you may ask;<\/p>\n

\u2018For her,\u2019 say I, \u2018you have no task.<\/p>\n

Wake up with the sun and listen to the birds,<\/p>\n

Sing with the rivers and read all my words.<\/p>\n

Then you will know her, remember her,<\/p>\n

And that is all that I long for.\u2019<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I still wish I could stay just a little bit longer.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

But I feel that my death has started to saunter;<\/p>\n

She will take her time, as I will take mine,<\/p>\n

As two sides of a coin that will be paid to time.<\/p>\n

And when we will meet, I know my fear won\u2019t have faded,<\/p>\n

But I\u2019ll kiss my death with all the love I\u2019ll have created.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

This is my wish. Farewell, my friend;<\/p>\n

I may be years in advance, or this may be the end.<\/p>\n

And when you, too, will be stepping in the darkest light,<\/p>\n

Come find me \u201cwhere the dreamers dream and the others go to die.\u201d 1 <\/sup><\/p>\n\n\n

\n\n\n

1 <\/sup>from the song Bye Bye<\/em> by Low Roar, which has helped a lot in the writing of this poem.<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Author: Mel A. Riverwood Some people never hear the silence talk. But to me, it screams, with every tick of the clock, It says I will die, though I already know, And tells me someday I won\u2019t feel anymore; What could that feel like, to not feel? Do the dead still live? I know I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1002323,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[72],"tags":[36],"class_list":{"0":"post-2640","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-2022-spring","7":"tag-poetry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2640","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1002323"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2640"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2640\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2640"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2640"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp.unil.ch\/musemagazine\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2640"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}