Globally, when regimes and political philosophy change, history comes under onslaught. Rewritten, revised, reinterpreted to suit the flavor of the realm. Historical sites are often the target of either misdirected rage or unsolicited renovation. Some soils are colored by the blood of martyrs, some hallways still echo with horrors, some passages are still raw open wounds, and the air of some places still heavy with captive souls.
It is the responsibility and honor of the people of a land to protect the essence of their history and tell the stories unembellished. It is imperative to ensure historical symbols and places remain untarnished yet accessible in their true spirit to those who still want to learn from the past for the future. Whether we choose to ignore and not believe – the only truth is that history repeats itself.
I wrote these lines as an ode to maintaining history’s sanctity, in its complete truth – scars, stains, crumbling walls! History does not demand beautification. It deserves preservation – in every single corner of the world, where it remains alive in collective memory, sacrifices, sufferings, and also in the penultimate growth of human civilization. We are what our history has made us.
Blank walls tell more stories
Resonate with voices that bury
Within crevices of each heart
As they walk the once doomed path
Let each feel fear in the wind
Hear chaos in the echoes and din
For true emotions can only reveal
Compassion with the men of steel
Don’t waste metal, glass, and marble
Don’t bring masons and sculptors
To hide blood stains, to erase memory
By invoking another vision of history!