May 4

On the Dam, where silence breathes so deep, An evening of mourning, promises to keep. Two minutes for those who gave their all, Their names whispered through time’s quiet hall. From '45 to now, a growing light, Resistance heroes, Jews lost to night. Roma and Sinti, their stories untold, We honor their pain, their voices of old. In Indonesia, another fight bled, Peace missions bore their own regret. Wreaths are laid, five for those who fell, War and terror—a silence to tell. But always the question, an echo through years: Who do we honor, and whose heart hears? Are refugees welcomed in our prayer, Or is their suffering left to despair? "No protest," they say, "only grief’s embrace," Yet silence cries louder than its space. The world entwined, past merging with now, Remembrance demands more than a vow. "Never again," but peace is so frail, Intolerance leaves a wound to unveil. The clock strikes eight, the air holds its breath, Free to remember the lives met with death. A mirror of hope, of pain, of the real, Remembrance: so human, so fragile to feel.