Hidden Echoes: Unseen Pages of History

In halls where facts are polished bright,

And lessons shape the mind,

Some shadows dance beyond the light,

Where truth is hard to find.

The textbooks boast of battles won,

Of heroes draped in fame,

Yet whispers tell of what's undone,

Of those without a name.

There was a time in ancient lands,

Where women held the sway,

With wisdom in their healing hands,

They kept the dark at bay.

But conquest wrote them out of lore,

And silence veiled their grace,

Now history forgets their core,

Their stories left no trace.

The maps once marked with velvet lines,

Of kingdoms far and near,

Ignored the blood, the silent signs,

Of cultures gripped by fear.

The victors penned the tales we read,

Of glory and of might,

But hidden truths in margins bleed,

Of those who lost the fight.

In hidden rooms, the secrets lie,

Of treaties gone awry,

Of peoples forced to say goodbye,

Beneath a foreign sky.

The empire's gold was built on bone,

In lands across the sea,

Yet in the ledgers, none are shown,

The cost of cruelty.

The scholars speak of noble quests,

Of saints and holy creeds,

But seldom tell of all the rests,

Of darker, selfish deeds.

The pilgrims who sought freedom's shore,

Brought chains in their own right,

While preaching peace, they waged a war,

Their sins concealed from sight.

The renaissance of art and thought,

A beacon in the night,

Forgets the minds it nearly caught,

In shadows out of sight.

The lights that shone in Galileo,

In Bruno’s burning eyes,

Were dimmed by fear, by cries of woe,

By truth wrapped up in lies.

In modern times, the tales persist,

Of progress and of growth,

Yet countless voices still resist,

The silence and the oath.

The victims of the silent streets,

Where justice turned away,

Where history in silence greets,

The struggles of today.

So let us seek the hidden parts,

The truths that books conceal,

For history’s pulse beats in our hearts,

In wounds that time can heal.

Let stories rise from dust and stone,

Where echoes faintly cry,

And let the unheard voices own,

Their place beneath the sky.

For in the folds of every tale,

In every shadowed nook,

Lies history's whispered, hidden trail,

Beyond the printed book.