My dear Iran, my country, my heart, my soul,
I miss you so much.
I am daydreaming about the days of going to our house in Tehran, eating my grandmother's food, going to the bazaar, walking the streets of Fereshteh, buying walnuts soaked in salted water, smelling the freshly baked bread from the local bakeries, and hearing our beautiful melodic language that is Farsi.
To a country of poets, flowers and nightingales,
The breathtaking architecture of our palaces and places of worship,
Gardens where musicians, poets, and philosophers would take refuge,
And to the emblem of our society; our Women.
One day soon, I hope you will be set free again.
Memories of road trips through the countryside to Ispahan and getting lost in the meandering passageways of the grand bazaar. The sights, smells, and sounds culminated in some of my life's most extraordinary sensory experiences. You effortlessly cast a spell on those you draw in.
Thank you for igniting the ever-growing inspiration inside of me.
We will meet again.
- Tara Ghazanfar
To my beloved Iran,
The land where fire roars within its people, the land of the lioness who roams wild and free in spirit. To my dear sisters who are now rising and roaring and dancing and fighting. To my dear brothers who are also flying alongside their lioness sisters in the fight to reclaim the land that has been taken for so long. I can feel your strong and sparkling life force, your brave warrior hearts, your wild voices and relentless fighting spirits.
It is you who are making change and sowing the seeds for the future children of this land. How lucky are they who will have you to thank as their ancestors. You are the new guardians of Iran. You are the protectors. You are now mothers and fathers. My heart is bleeding for you in this fight, it is crying for your suffering, and it is exploding with overwelming awe of your endless courage.
You are bleeding new life into the veins of our beloved Iran. May you be granted more strength and protection in this uprising, as you carry on standing strong and planting seeds of light so that beauty may grow again. May you bleed life into the veins of our home Iran, so that she can become free, so that all of her children shall be free again. Sisters and brothers of Iran, I know you will not fall. I know Iran will rise again. We must keep on planting seeds. And if we do fall, know this: we will rise again. And again. And again. We will carry on planting our magic seeds. We will carry on dancing in the wild night where our hearts fly free and our voices sing for the beauty of our new Iran. We will not stop planting seeds. There is work to do, but we all contain magic seeds that are a gift to the world. We all have something to give. We all have a purpose. We absolutely can re-create a beautiful, loving and free Iran.
Warriors, fighters, sisters, brothers, medicine women, earth children of Iran. Remember, we are made of magic. Power emanates from our hands. Feel the ancient power emanating from the earth of Iran. It lives within us. We have access to it. It is embedded in our fighting hearts that are made of fire. Power can heal. We are medicine people. We are healers. We are warriors. We are Iranian! We will keeping on fighting and celebrating as life grows again. A new and better Iran will grow again.
I am bleeding my life into the veins of the earth with hope that my beloved Iran will become free. My heart is with all of you in Iran right now. I stand by my fellow sisters and brothers in Iran as their voices are rising and roaring. I stand with Iran who is screaming and fighting. Iran is breaking free. Do not underestimate the Iranian people. We are fierce and powerful and the anger is burning. Just as the love is also burning. Everything is burning. Only then can new life grow from the ashes and rise as does the Phoenix. Iran is the land of the Simorgh bird, the Huma bird.. all birds that know how to rise from ashes over and over and over again. Watch. Watch how Iran is rising and watch how she blooms into a beautiful Phoenix bird, strong and sparkling.
I am sending seeds of hope that my beloved Iran may be free again and grow into the new Iran she deserves to be.
Women. Life. Freedom.
I love you.
- Hana Louise Shahnavaz
Dear Iran,
You are like the mother taken away from its children. We miss your warm embrace, your encouragement and your maternal grace.
This is not the motherland we recognise, these values are not what as a family we stand for. For forty four years you have been plunged into darkness, drowning, gasping for air, putting your hand out for anyone to lift you up.
We, the children, will lift you up. We, the children, will fight back for everything you stood for. We, the children, will remind everyone that this is the land where you taught all of us about human rights.
That’s how precious you are and you don’t even know it. You will come back defiant than ever, more praised than ever, because the very thing you stood for, in your humbleness, thought everyone stood for.
Now you know. Not everyone is like you. With your precious childlike innocence, you were taken advantage of. Now you understand. Now you roar.
Rising from the ashes, you become not only the mother of your children, but the mother of the world.
Stronger than ever before.
Madar e man. Sheerzan e man.
- Nika Diamond-Krendel
I may not walk the same steps as you
I may not see the same sights
But know that in my heart and mind
We are fighting the same fight.
Nikki MEFTAH
To my dear sisters, brothers,
To my country of birth, my forever home,
To the place I uttered my first word, laughed my best laughs, and cried my loudest cries,
To the place I experienced the deepest pains and the purest love,
To the place I grew up to be the woman I am today,
To the people whose hopes & dreams, fears & aspirations have been the deriving force in much of my personal journey; but also professional life,
You are worth everything.
I long for the day when you are no longer robbed from your fullest potential.
I long for the day when dreaming in Iran is no longer a dream in and of itself — but a reality of life.
I long for the day when I can come back and visit my dad’s gravesite without fear of arrest for being a journalist, an author, a truth-teller.
I long for the day when we can all laugh together, hand in hand, celebrating our victory over darkness.
Until then, I’ll keep doing what I’ve committed myself to do in life: to tell stories that can positively shape, impact, and influence the lives of people around the world. And in this case, the lives of millions of my fellow country women & men whose vitality I long for with every inch of my being.
”نه، من خانهای ندارم. سقفی نماندهاست. دیوار و سقف خان ٔه من همینهاست که مینویسم.“ هوشنگ گلشيرى
- Tara Kangarlou
