THE SENTENCE OF FREEDOM

THE SENTENCE OF FREEDOM

She was only sixteen.

Her hair became a crime.

Her body, a battlefield.

The sentence of freedom

was written at the cost of girls’ lives.

But this flame will not be extinguished.

A mother. A hospital room.

A lost eye.

And a voice that will never be silenced.

✍️ faramarz parsa

The Sentence of Freedom

She shifted slightly on the chair where she was sitting.

From her handbag, she took out a sheet of paper, glanced briefly to the right and left, and unfolded it. Written on it in green ink were the words:

“Woman, Life, Freedom.”

I let my hair be carried by the wind,

and drew the sharp blade of my tongue

out of its sheath.

I bought the sentence of my hair’s freedom

at the price of my life.

She folded the paper and put it back into her bag. She looked at the wall clock in the emergency waiting room, took a deep breath, and murmured under her breath:

— What kind of disaster has fallen upon us? They hang our children before our eyes, they shoot them in the streets… What kind of punishment is this that we must pay? And our children too?

She closed her eyes. At that moment, a nurse called her name.

— It’s me, I’m here.

The nurse led her to the second floor, pointed to a door, and said:

— Room number eight. Your daughter is there. Go in; I’ll be back shortly.

The mother entered the room with tear-stained cheeks. She said to herself:

— She’s only sixteen.

Her daughter’s head and half of her face were wrapped in a white bandage. She sat beside the bed, held her daughter’s hand, and began to speak softly:

— My beautiful girl, my flesh and blood… why must you pay for the mistakes of us, your parents? May I be sacrificed for you, my love. These merciless people understand nothing…

The nurse entered the room and spread a sheet over the patient.

The mother asked:

— Miss, what did the doctor say?

The nurse replied gently:

— The doctor will be here in a few minutes.

And she left the room.

For a moment, the mother closed her eyes and returned to the past. Her father’s voice echoed in her ears:

— Death to the Shah! Death to the dictator!

At that time, she was only ten years old.

She opened her eyes, wiped the tears from her cheeks with the edge of her scarf, and looked at her daughter.

— May your mother be sacrificed for your tall, beautiful figure. I told you not to go, not to get involved. These people understand nothing. Didn’t they kill the neighbor’s daughter right before our eyes?

You said:

— No, mother. My blood is no redder than the blood of those girls who were killed for freedom and the right to choose their lives. We will continue the path of Mahsa and all the girls who gave their lives for freedom, until victory.

She closed her eyes again and returned to the past. Her father’s broken voice rang out:

— So what kind of revolution was this that we made? I lost two brothers for you. Is this the answer to our raised fists? To our shouted slogans? These children are the sons and daughters of the very parents who once shielded you with their chests.

She opened her eyes at the sound of the doctor’s voice:

— There’s no need to worry. She’ll recover. But unfortunately, the pellet that struck her eye has taken her sight.

The mother had no words left. She stared at her daughter and said silently to herself:

— From today on, I too will draw the sharp blade of my tongue from its sheath, and I will buy the sentence of freedom for the hair of all the girls on the path of freedom, at the price of my life.