Memories

I remember, and I won’t forget
the first time that I ever met
my best friend Kells; we were four, you see,
and the rest is history.

I remember, and I can’t forget,
the day that my grandmother let
me bounce on her bed to my mother’s chagrin,
“What are grandparents for?” She said with a grin.

I remember, and I also forget,
but what I’ve forgotten I’ll remember yet,
because my memories are all I have left,
of the grandmother I loved, but who I lost and who left.

I must remember, and I mustn’t forget,
the history that my people have let
fall through the cracks. It must not hide;
it should be something we wear with pride.

I do remember, but I should forget,
the injustices done by people I’ve met
who I no longer know, and now I can see
that if I hold on to hurt, I only hurt me.

So I remember that Christ died for me,
and that through his death, I was set free.
To the Father I’ve been reconciled,
I can’t forget that I’m His child.