What secret do you hide between your ancient walls?
Is martyrdom your destiny? Or are you the one who chooses it, whenever the Cross appears on the horizon and time turns toward pain and truth and resurrection?
From Joseph of Damascus, to Nicholas and Habib Khasha — lamps of light that were not extinguished.
And here the church of al-Duweila'a cries out in the silence of blood: here, through bread and fire and olive, my martyrs walked the road of Golgotha, carrying the homeland upon their shoulders, the Gospel in their mouths, and love in their hearts.
Damascus, O city of the Crucified and of the lovers, are you the bride of martyrdom? Or is it martyrdom that chooses you as its bride, because you know how to love the face of God when it drips with blood?
In you the Crucified is not forgotten, for He still nails His heart to your gates, in love and not in death.
Peace be to you, O city of the tormented light.
We all gaze toward you, writing our names upon your walls, to remain faithful to your promise: that there is no resurrection without a cross, and no cross without love, and no love greater than this: that a person lay down their life for their beloved.
O Damascus, teach us how to love unto blood, how to forgive even betrayal, and how to rise with the Crucified.