‘the spreading of corruption on earth,’
Iranian Baha’i leaders may face new accusation on anniversary of imprisonment
To this charge, I can only say that if they are guilty, than I am guilty too. And I evoke the example of the companions of Spartacus!
Let every lover of humanity and peace stand up for justice and human rights!
To the Children of Prison and Exile
by Majid Naficy
"NEW YORK, 12 May (BWNS) - The seven Baha’i leaders currently imprisoned in Iran are facing the anniversary of their arrest this Thursday, along with new and extremely grave accusations, after spending a year in jail without formal charges or access to their lawyer, Shirin Ebadi.
“Despite their obvious innocence and the call by many for their immediate release, these seven men and women have been in legal limbo for a year now, against all international human rights standards,” said Bani Dugal, the principal representative of the Baha’i International Community to the United Nations.
“Moreover, their families have recently been told of a possible new charge - ‘the spreading of corruption on earth,’ which goes by the term ‘Mofsede fel-Arz’ in Persian and carries the threat of death under the penal code of the Islamic Republic of Iran,” said Ms. Dugal."
To this charge, I can only say that if they are guilty, than I am guilty too. And I evoke the example of the companions of Spartacus!
Let every lover of humanity and peace stand up for justice and human rights!
To the Children of Prison and Exile
by Majid Naficy
After the silence of firing squads
Still it burns in our hearts
And we carry their corpses
On our broken backs.
I want to turn this death into life.
How many companions,
Who in these years of defeat and execution
Created life from an embryo?
I am talking about the children of prison and exile:
Cheshmeh, Roza, and Sulmaz.(1)
I want to turn this death into life
That like a jug of water
Becomes filled with the freshness of Cheshmeh,
And like a red rose
Blooms from the lips of Roza,
And like the word “sulmaz”
Becomes evergreen.
I will sift, grind, and soften this death,
Until the children of prison and exile
Mold it into play dough.
I am calling you,
O newborns of years of pain,
The crocodiles in your painting
Have no teeth,
Because the names of their friends
Never crossed their lips.
I want to turn this death into a poem,
That can be read like magic
When the corpse of a butterfly
Carried by ants
Makes you remember the dead ones.
I want to turn this death into life.
1. These names respectively mean: “spring”, “rose” and “everlasting”.
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