The Weight of History

The Cross, a symbol, ancient and grand, Casts a long shadow, across the land. Of faith and forgiveness, a message divine, Yet stained by darkness, a history intertwined.

The whispers of children, a haunting refrain, Of trust, betrayed, and enduring pain. The Inquisition's fires, a cruel decree, Where reason and mercy, ceased to be.

The Crusades' fury, a clash of the sword, Where faith became fuel, a bitter word. Colonial conquests, a legacy of strife, The echoes of suffering, throughout all of life.

But within the walls, a flicker remains, Of compassion and service, easing the pains. Of feeding the hungry, and sheltering the poor, A beacon of hope, forevermore.

The weight of the past, a heavy decree, Yet the seeds of redemption, for all to see. To learn from the shadows, and strive for the light, To build a future, where justice shines bright