Dear Khodayar, refugees are still burning themselves and
people are still dying. I am very sorry to tell you this, but your words have
not been listened to. I was heavy with the news of Omid Maoumali’s recent death
whin I went to your camp. I brought flowers which I left at the base of the
tree. I looked at the photographs of your face and again read your last
statement posted to the tree. And I hear your voice clear and defiant. This
comes to me strongly as I stand in your last camp. And I hang onto this
comunication from you – this impression of your presence.
This is like air to my lungs and I drink it in. A letter has
been left for you at the tree. I don’t know who wrote it. I do know that your
words are not forgotten and will not be forgotten. Your words are special
because they make sense of these crimes. Your words are antidote to the false
slogans of humanity that beguile and deceive us. A heart can’t function when
its openings are blocked by shit. A mind can’t live while we consume our own
young in violence. The fools who own these prison camps will not listen to your
words but they can’t silence them either. In their monstrous confusion they
ignore the truths that you have spoken with such courage. Love Stephen
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