Down the stairs, truth be told,
In grains of sand, each truth I hold,
The winds of change blowing through,
Where I stand a desert grew.

Long ago, a secret past,
In this cellar, the die was cast,
For trade in skin, bought and sold,
When all used up, left to the cold.

During the times of Jesus Christ,
The pagan north made sacrifice,
Long before the Romans tread,
Countless times, my floor, blood red.

The ages dark, with progress spurned,
In the shadow, they came to learn,
To be caught, a witch’s fate,
Dragged to the street, burned at the stake.

In darkest days, I housed the dead,
A deadly plague, like wildfire spread,
In the street above, a putrid smell,
As many more lay where they fell.

The Renaissance, a different time,
Science, hope, creativity sublime,
The greatest minds would gather here,
To share ideas and quaff a beer.

With eyes set to rule the globe,
Once again, men bought and sold,
The trade in slaves, a sordid deed,
Colonial conquest, born of greed.

This too would come to pass,
With new dreams, the middle class,
Bookkeepers, sellers too, rent they paid,
To work this space and ply their trade.

Outside of hardship, a war or two,
A violent past, seemingly through,
The dirty deeds of times long past,
A distant memory, but could it last.

The fascist rise, a Nazi scourge,
Return to violence, and ethnic purge,
Within these walls, a role to play,
A safe haven for the Jew to stay.

German surrender, the Axis gone,
We’ll raise the ceiling, the war is won,
Amongst the victors, distrust befall,
Let’s carve it up and build a wall.

The bomb that stopped the rising sun,
A Cold War threat to everyone,
Up the steps, into the street,
These walls would spawn a protest meet.

A box backlit, we watch and swoon,
One great step, man on the moon,
The pace of progress, lightning-fast,
A world much smaller than in the past.

Criminals gang with schemes they’ve planned,
Down these stairs, make one last stand,
Squatters, junkies, and homeless too,
Have grace these steps, just passing through.

A brand new hope, the wall’s come down,
The communist threat pushed underground,
Closer to home, I might meet my end,
Historical status, I’m saved again.

Brand new threats begin to form,
Planes as weapons, the terror norm,
The world stood still, down here too,
Growing hate as the factions grew.

Carbon, methane, greenhouse gas,
Threatens all that’s come to pass,
So many deniers, fly in the face of fact,
Wake up now, it’s getting too late to act.

Trapped within a screen of blue,
Feeding you your point of view,
All designed to keep you stuck,
Never realizing, you’re the product.

A power rising, far in the east,
The fiery dragon, with bared teeth,
Mother Russia, rising from the ash,
While you squabble over wearing a mask.

They forget I’ve been through it before,
The winds of change will blow once more,
Things I’ve witnessed, bad and good,
I’d sound the alarms if I could.

The things I’ve seen, I could go on,
But anymore, you’d likely yawn,
To those before, your history’s safe,
Behind my doors, held in this place.

One thing I know, as right as rain,
What goes around, comes back again,
Whatever comes with each new dawn,
I’ll still be here, long after you’ve gone.

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Photo Credit: 2. KL Caley
Copyright 2022 Greg Glazebrook, All Rights Reserved.