0- The womb.
In the third week vision becomes clear.
In the fourth, the first heartbeat.
Years ago, I learned that God loves beauty.
The sheikh of the mosque insisted on that,
yet not to the extent of how much he described hell as dark.
Moral to the story, I came to realize that the sheikh was a liar,
and maybe that was the reason I lost the road to God.
The womb was dark, and I think I was enjoying it.
Plus, what is beautiful in standing behind a man during prayers-
one who describes God as beautiful,
yet prays for Him with closed eyes?
In science, some of us love in order to forget.
In literature, some forget in order to love.
Yet in other schools,
the two verbs are not the head and tale of one coin;
they are different coins,
with different faces of... love.
Although stories differ,
we talk about love at first sight.
Still, my story has only realized completion
with my first kiss, when I was rest assured
that it is forgetfulness that we fear,
because no other theory can explain
why we close our eyes when we love,
except that we fear to forget the beauty of the moment
or the taste of love.
And nothing can explain why we raise our hands
and only start looking for god when our eyelids are shut.
And all of this can be traced to the beginning,
to the waters of the womb,
where vision was a priority
Creeds might differ, yet nobody can escape;
earth is our grave, the twin of the womb.
Both stretch to make for us room,
and in both we roll over ourselves
as if clutching every experience we lived
before time zero.
Now, we realize the truth;
it is not forgetfulness that we used to fear,
but having been forgotten.
The source of our deepest fears was two words:
In a poignant coming-of-age tale spanning a lifetime, Abed’s poem chronicles the human psyche well. Touching upon the apexes of a human life among its ocean-like waves, We Were has many important messages and facts interwoven within its verses, all culminating to one’s death and understanding of a human’s greatest fear: being forgotten (as inevitable as it may be). Life being so poetically described for a piece of prose, it really begs to be read more than once.