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.

Another Year

The heart’s

Aches on display,

Weighed down

By losses of yesterday;

Churns out sounds

Of muted grief,

And of lives

Hanging on a cliff;

As fingers

Of tearing sorrows

Massage hearts

Without windows

For hopeful air to flow,

To lift the spirit that bow

Each living moment

In surrender to the torment

Of lives dear, now laid low.

Another year

Of mourning

Every morning;

Another painful sea

Carrying a solemn plea:

For justice

For peace

For healing wounds

Inflicted by vile hounds.

Another commemoration

For a family lost to execution

And for the thousands

Erased by murderous hands.

The joyous songs

The dancing throngs

And vibrant hues

Hide the painful views

That silently rule my soul;

A wound smelling so foul

A fractured heart

That falters at every start

Of each time to remember

I cling onto the memory

Of my mother's hands,

Pale, frail and loose

Holding me close

Against the chilling

Blizzards of hate’s sting;

And the sound

Of gashing wind

Carrying her words

Of comfort in fragile cords;

A fleeting veil of hope lost

As an echo in howling dust

That cannot hide

The faces of the dead

Forever etched

In my heart’s eye,

As a turbulent sea

Of endless pain.

Today, they march

With fragility in each branch

In the collective, a solemn stride,

In memory of their infinite pride

A march to honor souls lost

For peace and liberty at any cost.

Again

The world commemorates

While silent pain persists;

A silent wound

Hidden within

The depths of my soul.

Yet, memory,

Is the only weapon

That truly resists,

And consists

Of the power

To confront

The darkness;

Keep the candle

Of Humanity

Aflame

And make

Hope whole;

Again.