Dear Khodayar, we gathered in the city at the State Library
to stand up for the rights of refugees. There were thousands of us. I took with
me a branch from a tree, that was full of long green, curving leaves. Each leaf
was beautiful and on each leaf I had written your name. We had all come there
because of the cruel treatments inflicted on you. We are opposed to the
slogans of humanity that are being used to sentence people to death. How could
we not find these crimes abhorrent? How could we not remember your death and the
deaths of all the others and all the harm done? We are human beings and we feel
your pain. We know your name. To each person I offered a leaf of remembrance
that bears your name. The leaves were received and I moved through the crowd
distributing more leaves. The sky and the air are witness to your life,
Khodayar. We are witness to your extraordinary humanness. After your death,
after my death, after the deaths of all of us, the story of our lives will
remain with the weight of our failures and the beauty of our success. The
leaves became fewer and fewer until the last one had been given out; the branch
was bare and my hands were empty.
Love Stephen
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