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History Repeats Itself, for the better or worse? تاریخ خود را تکرار می کند.

گاهی تنها یک گلوله کافیست/ شمارش معکوس/ شورش رها/ نشر ناکجاThree years ago, on almost the same days I was experiencing the most horrifying time of my life. My land of birth and growth, Iran, was calling to an end to its regime. Nothing looked right to me as an outsider, who once was a reformist activist who turned to a left democrat soon, observing the riots and predicting the very early failure. I spent the days following the news and contacting my fellows and some old comrades I was still in touch. I started losing contact with them one by one, for them ending in prison, leaving me in wonder and tears. I lost my perfect relationship with my ex, only and only because of moody days I was passing.

A year passed. Just on the same date I was forced by my then-fiance’ to go to Iran for a court wedding. I was dead scared, wondering if my name was still in the black list and would immediately be arrested by the intelligence service. All the way long, I was praying that my flight would never land in Tehran. It did. But to my surprise I was not even asked my name! I could not believe that my then-fiance’ was behind all that; NEVER. So we got married in 8 days, the worst suicidal decision I ever made in life. I can now highlight the date as the worst day of my life on the calendar.

Two years later, on our first anniversary, I was alone and too weak. I had been bedridden for almost a month, looking like a dead corpse. At the time we thought it was just flu. Wrong! It was much more serious to be taken as a typical cold. My husband did not even remember our first anniversay, so my parents, cousin and I bought a cake and celebrated it alone.

Three years later, today, I am in the hospital. I have been bedridden for four days now and there is not much hope for me to be released by the end of the week either. Having just had my fourth session of chemotherapy, the blood cancer has made all my bones look like net-shaped tubes of hollow interior. I am losing my hopes to be a successful surviver of ALL Leukemia, counting the days until all my sorrows and pains end.

Four years later, next year on the same date, who knows? I might be a ghost observing the change in the region and wishing I could be there to celebrate the freedom of humanity in the country which carries the history of bloodshed, supperession, dictatorship and religious fascism.

“بخشی از شعر “گاهی تنها یک گلوله کافیست 

شورش رها – شمارش معکوس – نشر ناکجا 

من به پا می خیزم

پیامبری منادی شادی

منادی شورش

منادی رهایی

منادی پایان

منادی آتش

ما برابر می شویم

وقتی

 هیچ طلب نکنیم

و باور کنیم 

گاهی،

تنها یک گلوله کافیست.

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