Martyrs Shiver..

These are painful days that we live in, days that have ushered in a new chapter into our history. These are days that bring novelty even to our eventful lives. These are days that bring new life to the meaning of sacrifice and unity against the malicious magic of those that bring contempt.

The great divide of the revolutionary veterans and the burgeoning youth that rose from the ashes has been fused and sown together. We have put on the same garment of our fathers and now follow their strides.

Dear Father:

For too long I have been wondering with an amber burn why I feel the pain of discrimination, oppression, and injustice on the shoulders of my nation. I knew that these pains are rooted in the selfishness and inadequacy of the regime that you have put sweat and time for to ameliorate before the revolution and gave everything else to uphold it after. I knew I had once reproached you for objecting to tyranny and had wished for more moderation. But I now know that we cannot afford to give a single moment of silence to oppression. I now understand the true implications of your past actions and that was to stand up against the theft of the ideals of the revolution. You have fought shoulder to shoulder alongside your brother and millions of your countrymen. Despite this, they have exchanged the spears of Saddam while still afresh with the blood and sacrifice of your brethren with their own to tear this country apart and have stolen the clothes of your fellow veterans and placed it on their enemies. You never could have imagined that these same jackals would be craving the remnants of your brother who had been returned after 11 long years. But you saw that they stole them and placed them on university grounds for their own purposes.

The generation that wanted to build another universe and human anew was lost and maimed in the revolution and the war and those that remained were sent to the pits of prison or dismissal. If they were the targets of marauding bullets yesterday, their spouses and children have become the target of the insult and bullets of hypocrites.

Today the dead are shivering in their resting places. They are churned with the agony of those that have joined them. Those that have been squandered by the minions of a petty regime. A regime that brings batons and teargas to their funerals. The shattering of my uncle’s chest by a tank shell seems pale to the sight of bullets landing on our young and old by assailants disguised as our countrymen. The same assailants who broke my father’s chest.

Today the dead are in pain. They are in pain to see the mother who buried her 12-year old son next to them. A mere child who lost his life for wanting to mourn and pray the many others who died before him. Today, the dead cry for Mousavi, Khatami, Karoubi, Abtahi, and thousands of others who are labeled as by hypocrites by no other than the true hypocrites themselves. They are in pain because of the courts of oppression that have been formed by the same hypocrites who suck the blood of the innocent like leeches.

It has been years since we have been inundated with news on Saddam’s prisons, Guantanamo Bay and Abu Gharib. But is there no one to see what is being done to our young and elders in Kahrizak and the atrocities that no pen can record? These atrocities make Saddam and Hitler as minute and tolerable.

Dear Father,

I was your son yesterday, but now I am a fellow combatant.

Dear Father, Dear Brother-in-arm,

I know that you cannot hear me, and that you are in a place where only God hear you and heal your wounds with the balms of faith. But I want you to know that your visions have been realized in full light.

Do you remember when you said that nowhere in this world will oppression last, for as long as there is a tyrant, there is the sorrowful moan of the oppressed? I wish you were amongst us today and saw for yourself that the moan of the subjugated is no longer irrelevant and has become a cry hammering on the statue of tyranny. It has become a cry that leaves no sleep for the tyrants and has bedazzled them into mistake after mistake. They know that they are alone now. If we had been scared for years, it is now their turn to taste fear. It is the cry of our subjugation that has shook the walls of time and rattled their deaf ears. It is our ferocious flood that has begun and will only become more ferocious until all of oppression has been cleaned and the oppressors drowned. The resonance of our shouts has forced them to hide behind masks and engulfed their existence with fear. To the mercenaries we say “Be afraid, we are all united.”

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