daffodils

condemn execution of minors

2009-09-24T12:24:00.000-07:00

Here is a letter by minor defendant Behnood Shojaee who is on the verge of being executed for a murder committed when he was 17.

In the name of the merciful god

I wish the wind would take my voice!

I wish the birds passing the tall wall of the prison would hear what I have to say and tell you all about it at the top of your roof. I was a little kid when my guardian angel, my mother passed away and left me all alone. I never thought being with out my mother would be so difficult. It’s been over three years since I’ve been locked up in this cell and all my memories are limited to one day. It’s been three years and I still live in one day. Three years and I still take the same path I took that day and despite my hard try I’m not able to return back. I get desperate, I shout out deep inside. I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen. God, why did it happen?! For the rest of my life I will be ashamed towards those whom I have not even met yet and spoken to; to tell them this Behnood didn’t realize what happened at that moment. But today, he is deeply ashamed of what he did and everyday he bows down to god and asks for his merci. I have lived in that very same day during the past few years, the worst day of my life. I have died over and over, but I’m still alive and still waiting to die again! I swear to god, no one understands how heavy this burden is! The same way no one understands how painful it is to lose a child. I’m ashamed of myself for ever, for killing a human being, a young adult a dear person… What should I say!!! I wish I had never gone, I wish… They have taken me to the solidarity confinement to perform the execution; cold, heavy and painful nights. I don’t know what o say, I died thousand times. I wanted to cry, but no tears. I wanted to groan, but no voice. I wanted to hold my mother in those loneliness moments and cry, but there was only white walls and cold metal. I’m at the end of a lifetime full of pain, which at the end I have nothing but shame and regret. The jail man turned the key and said get up, its time.
The voice of the key made my heart tremble, I thought of your endless pain when you saw your son. They took me to the prison’s yard. My entire life passed by my eyes in thoes moments, I thought of your son who also had many wishes just like me. When they told me I have one moth to get your mercy, right where I was suppose to be hanged I saw his brother. Cold sweat of shame covered my forehead. They took me back to prison. I start crying in my cell. Dear god, how can I tell them I’m ashamed of myself, I’m ashamed. I would whisper with my mother at nights, where did you go mom? Why you left me all alone? If you were here what could’ve not happen. I wish you were here, I wish you were here to go to their house and ask for their forgiveness. If you were here with me, this would’ve never happened to me. Mother in that world of yours, go and visit Ehsan (Victims name) go and be his mother. I owe him and I undressed the pain of not having a mother. God has given his endless love and kindness to mothers and fathers to give to their children. I’m certain you are the kindest and the love for your lost son has opened another door upon me. This might be my last letter and I’m not sure of it reaches your or not. But I want you to know that during the past 3 years Behnood has wished to meet you to get on to your feet and tell you that what happened was not on purpose, I swear I did not know what happened. I swear to god that I’m ashamed of myself. You have the right o say or do anything. I wish your love and the light of your kindness shine on my frozen body, I wish for your forgiveness.

I end my letter with a hello.

Behnood Shojaie

posted by human rights activists in Iran

The price that we have to pay

2009-09-23T22:53:00.000-07:00

What is the price of freedom?
Why should anybody pay a price for it anyway?
And who is the one which counts his/her dollars to set a price for it?
Who is to be paid?
Who is to be the one who pays?
They say: freedom is not free.
Well…I say. That’s sick. We are born free and nobody’s meant to pay any price for something that we are born with.
I say freedom is not free…for those who think they can take it away from human beings.
Not for this girl
She should not pay any price
She should be granted a prize…

P.S: viva Iran

our sancuary

2009-09-23T07:09:00.000-07:00

It’s cramped. Convenient, we can say. You can live. Not a luxury life, but a reasonable one. It has windows. You may not be able to cast a good view at sun, cause there are towers and skyscrapers all around you, which hinder your eyesight. However, the beam is clear enough. That beam of light which appears in the most dreadful hours of the day, lights up your heart, and makes you feel, at least for a second, that things may not be that bad anyway. Sometimes you think to yourself that windows may just be there to fool you. It has rooms. We can walk in them, think in them, spend our most precious days of our lives in them and just contemplate on what we deserve, and what we have. They are our only sanctuaries, Everybody’s sanctuary. A sanctuary that we have to share, just to survive.
Where is this place I’m talking about?
Well…it’s Iran.

P.S: to my people, whom I fight with: you, who are brave, are free.

bad timing

2009-09-18T05:00:00.000-07:00

"All voting is a sort of gaming, like checkers or backgammon, with a slight moral tinge to it, a playing with right and wrong, with moral questions; and betting naturally accompanies it. The character of the voters is not staked. I cast my vote, perchance, as I think right; but I am not vitally concerned that that right should prevail. I am willing to leave it to the majority. Its obligation, therefore, never exceeds that of expediency. Even voting for the right is doing nothing for it. It is only expressing to men feebly your desire that it should prevail. A wise man will not leave the right to the mercy of chance, nor wish it to prevail through the power of the majority. There is but little virtue in the action of masses of men. When the majority shall at length vote for the abolition of slavery, it will be because they are indifferent to slavery, or because there is but little slavery left to be abolished by their vote. They will then be the only slaves. Only his vote can hasten the abolition of slavery who asserts his own freedom by his vote."

Henry David Thoreau

P.S: I knew all this. I was quite sure about it. despite knowing this, why did I vote anyway?!!

people, flowers, stories

2009-05-07T01:58:00.000-07:00

First when I read "The Catcher in the Rye", I thought to myself how fun would it be to write something like that. so honest and pure...so "me"...

I've been trying to write ever since.The most precious part is that, the more I write, the more I know. the more I know, the more I enjoy and this wonderful journey of life could have never been so amazing!

I was a child. full of wonders. full of little great dreams! full of beauties. my perception of a good life could be summerized into three words:

" people, flowers, stories!"

for 10 years I've carried those three magical words with me. now, I want to put them down, take a good look at them and push them from my little world of wonders into this big fat world, called " the earth"!

let's start

2009-05-07T01:42:00.000-07:00

This is the beginning of a new life for me, and I want to celebrate it with my favorite poem of all times.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

and twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line

along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced;

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

in such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed - but little thought

what wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch

I lie in vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.