Forty third letter / poem to Khodayar on the occassion of his sixth death anniversary

Khodayar, let this song be an echo for your life, your life, solid as an avalanche coming from the mountains, to us. Full of danger / you lived cut off from your home, from your people, in the land of strangers, you were forced apart. You were put in danger, again and again. Let this spring refresh your soul and take some of the bitterness away. Let us share this with you. This wind between the mountains is strong and clean and even touches that place-apart, where your life was cancelled. I don’t understand this I am not explaining it well. The ripples from your words set all the boats dancing on the pretty water, raise the hairs on my neck. 18.10.21

Forty second Letter/Poem to Khodayar

Walking in hills, with the rain my eyes follow the ridge above me - as it climbs higher, ever higher. The paths followed by the living and those followed by the dead are kept forever seperate and apart. Five years since your death Khodayar the flowers of Spring still blanket the ground upon which my wet feet step. Clouds block any sight of the sun with time and waiting, may I see it again. The birds cross between all these paths threaded rain drops of the air. I take your absence as rememberance of all the things that you were, the things that you could have been. I take it as the loneliness of water finding a way to the ocean, of nature encircled by mountains without end. Cold, my friend, help me to find the way home, skirting danger - like houses on a plain around the base of a cliff. 18 October 2020

Today marks the day four years ago on the 18th of October 2015 when Khodayar Amini died.

Khodayar deserved to have safety, to have freedom and to stay alive. He didn't find any of these things in Australia.

When I mention Khodayar's name I think of all those who have died and have been harmed by Australia's brutal border policies.

“I, Khodayar Amini, write the following few sentences with my blood for those apathetic so called human beings. Yes they did this to me, with slogans of humanity, sentenced me to death. My crime was that I was a refugee. They tortured me for 37 months and during all these times they treated me in the most cruel and inhumane way. They violated my basic human right and took away my human dignity with their false and so called humane slogans. They killed me as well as many of my friends such as: Nasim Najafi, Reza Rezayee and Ahmad Ali Jaffari. They were my friends and their crime was that they had sought asylum in Australia.

“I write this statement with my blood for those who call themselves human beings, I ask you to stand up for the rights of refugees and stop people being killed just because they have become refugees. Humanity is not a slogan; every human being has the right to live. Living shouldn’t be a crime anymore. Red Cross, Immigration and the Police killed me with their slogans of humanity and cruel treatments.”

Khodayar Amini, 18 October, 2015

Dead Letters sent to Khodayar.

41st letter/poem to Khodayar

Dear Khodayar, I hate to think of you alone,
of you removed from life.
I hate to see you negated,
cheated,
shut out from this sweet world.

I don't want them to take your name away,
to give you a number instead.
Fences, files and lies
to make you a prisoner, to pretend you are not human.

I can't abide this.
I witness this.
I want to be your friend.
You spell your name with a K,
Khodayar means friend of god.
You resist all the repression that was thrown on you.
This cruelty from an angry nation.

They say you are at fault, of course they do.
They go further and say
that this industry for harming is because they care.
Their ultimate lie is an extra savagery
dressed in a suit.

You denounce them; their actions and their words.
You are not alone, many speak with you.
But your suffering is so real, so palpable.
 
Your suffering,
your suffering,
is so immense.

40th letter poem for Khodayar

The moon burns a hole

through which we can get through.

Night sky,

goodbye to these sorrows

to this pain and dragging time.

Cuts on each of my fingers

chronicle the gaps in life.

Compassion wasted

behind fences built too high to climb.

Why do you say no?

To us again and again?

Is this stain,

insecurity,

compulsive menacing

yours?

Who do you say no to?

Time for us to leave.

For a generous heart
to find a new start.

The way to a place of loving

up there,

calling - round and bright.

29.3.19 

Faces of Khodayar