Memory serves as the bedrock of individual and collective identities, anchoring societies and nations in the turbulent seas of history.

In the aftermath of genocidal atrocities, where the very fabric of society is torn asunder, memory stands as a bastion of resistance against oblivion.

For it is through memory that we honor the victims, learn from the past, and chart a path towards reconciliation and renewal.

As the timeless George Santayana adage goes, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

Memory, therefore, is not merely an act of nostalgia, but a sacred duty, a beacon of light guiding men and nations through the darkest of times to a point of historical and moral clarity, as key safeguards against repeating past horrors.

The following poem, inspired by Rwanda’s example, explores a new angle to echoes of memory.

The Burden of Recollection

The sky is dark

With clouds whirling

Around, casting a black

Haze over the lining

Of my heart,

Suffocating it

Like a prayer unanswered.

A survivor’s gaze,

Panicky,

Stares, eyes ablaze

Through the fractured

Windowpane

Of a soul

Anchored on a cane,

Wobbling through

A forest of scars

Inflicted by

Past horrors.

Today,

The radio crackles

Mournful songs,

And animated tales

Of unity,

Of peace;

A lie,

A bitter jest.

The bitter jest,

A reminder

Of the bloody

Market stalls

Dressed in stained

Red shawls

Woven from

Threads of hate.

I see their faces,

Sketched in haste

By a mind’s hand

Trembling

Like a wire band

Betrayed.

Faces

Of mothers.

Faces

Of brothers.

Faces

Of sisters - all so cruelly undone.

Each flicker of a flame

Each flickering,

Ghastly light,

Reminding me

Of the inferno;

Their chilling,

Final breaths.

The machete’s shrieks

Still echo

Through the years

Tormenting

My soul’s ears.

For now,

Even the scent

Of roasted maize

Smells like

The bitter stench

Of blood.

Each child’s

Laughter

A mockery;

A reminder

Of the innocence

Lost to blind

Hateful ignorance.

For now,

The music may send

A joyous,

Hopeful sound,

Yet, deep within,

Lies a hollow

Empty space;

A shell

Without grace

Filled with

Shadows and despair

Where love and laughter

Should abound.

This memory,

A weight,

A burden I must bear,

A wound that bleeds

Through holidays

Through every day.

To forget,

Is to betray them;

To erase their tears.

To remember,

Is to honor,

To keep their souls alive;

To ensure

Their stories echo

Through the years.

To remember

Keeps them alive,

Keeps me alive,

Keeps us alive,

Keeps

Never Again

Alive.

A poem by Williams Nkurunziza, Rwanda’s former Ambassador to Turkey

April 2025