When I Die Young…
There are those we remember, and those we forget.
Somewhere in between are the names, faces, and dreams lost too soon. This poem is a conversation with grief, memory, and the unbearable thought of being forgotten. For every young life lost, in one fight or another, may we remember them. And maybe in that memory, we can make a difference.
When I die young
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
How could you die young?
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
How could you die young?
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
Why not if you die young, why ‘when’,
How could you die young?
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
When my blood stains the street,
Will you whisper my name in a crowded room?
When my story fades from the headlines,
Will someone still hum my favourite song?
When my body floats in a nameless river,
Will a photograph remain in a drawer somewhere?
When it is easier to forget,
Will you choose to remember?
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
How could you die young?
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
When I’m buried with my dreams,
Will you let my fight end,
When my music stops,
When my stories are left untold,
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
How could you die young?
When I die young,
I may not be remembered,
Even I have forgotten some who’ve gone before me,
Their names, faces, dreams,
Even I have forgotten, but,
When I die young,
Will you remember me?
I will try to remember you,
When you die young.
And if you forget,
I will still have existed.
Will you remember me?
For the young lives we lost.
For the names we forgot.
And for those still fighting to be remembered.
