Dear Khodayar, I am cooking zucchinis and looking at the distant
ocean, thinking of you. It was that ocean that you found a way to pass over but
you were unable to find a way into our hearts. That cost you your life. We
sealed our hearts against you and sentenced you to death. We refused to call
you a human being; we refused to call you our brother. We betrayed you. You are
a human being, you are our brother. Our lies never changed any of these facts.
Our treachery will never make any sense.
I wish I could say to you “never again”. I wish I could say
that no one will ever again be killed for being a refugee, that no one will
ever again be killed for the colour of their skin. But we are still doing it
Khodayar! We still close our hearts to others – we still smear our lips with
lies – we still sentence our sisters and brothers to death. So I can only say
to you “over and over again, with tears”. With tears Khodayar. These tears have
meaning in the midst of a great barreness. They are facts in a sewer of lies.
But they are so cheap compared to the value of your life, and my life, and all
our lives.
The ocean is cold in winter and warm in summer. Creatures
pass across it to find food and to breed and to stay alive. Will we find safety
when we cross over to the other shore? Love Stephen
