On Friday night, Faidiem came to me and started asking about Trump, war, and Iran. I think heard us talking about Minab school from our conversations or the news.
I usually try not to expose my kids to these kinds of things too much.
Then she asked me, “The school was empty, right?”
And honestly, my heart shattered all over again.
I tried to explain it carefully. I told her the school was beside a military location, and that the children were not sent home immediately when the attacks started. I told her even the United States admitted mistakes were made.
But I couldn’t pretend it was nothing. I couldn’t make it sound simple.
I told her that when it comes to war and politics, people in power often stop seeing ordinary people. I told her the school was striked more than once. I told her a regime should never place children so close to military areas.
Then I went quiet.
She stared at me for a minute without blinking, her eyes filled with tears. Then she started talking:
“Elementary school?”
“Little kids?”
“Three times?”
“Why did they do it when the kids were at school?”
“Why was there a school beside military places?”
“Their parents…”
“How would they live without their kids?”
“They are sobbing right now”
“The pain they must have…”
“WHY?!”
I held her so tightly in my arms and tried to calm her down.
But the truth is… I didn’t have any answers for her!
All day today I was thinking about all Iranian mothers that they lost their children.😔
The mother of those young people that they have been murdered by regime on January 6 and 7, all Minnab’s mothers, and all mothers that this brutal regime execute their children everyday 😔
As Iranians, we are living through something no one should ever have to experience 😔
بیشرف بودن شده براشون مثل آب خوردن 🤬
هر روز دنبال یه امید واهی فروختن به مردم اون مملکتن
الان شبیه ۱۸ و ۱۹ دی نیست 😳؟؟؟
خجالت بکشید این سر دنیا نشستید پشت کامپیوترتون و حرف مفت میزنید. نفس مردم بالا نمیاد از خشم از افسردگی از گرونی از غم، اونوقت شما هر روز یه چرت و پرتی بگید. همون روزهای اول بعد کشته شدن خامنه ای هر کس میخواست حتی از آسمان فیلم یا عکس بگیره یهو یکی جلوش با تفنگ ظاهر میشد که داری چیکارمیکنی حق نداری فیلم بگیری، بعد این مرتیکه از پشت میکروفن میگه مردم بیان بیرون هیچیشون نمیشه
میگه از ترس مردم حرف نزنین
میگه چی میشه مگه اگه بیان بیرون
تادیروز تنکیو تنکیو ترامپ و اونیکی حالا مردم 😳
بی پدر مردم که خودشون بیرون بودن
شما ها گوه زدین به همه چی 😡
اره اینترنت هست اصلا چرا از اینترنت میگید، اره مردم بیان بیرون کار وباید تموم کنن😡 اره بیان بیرون کشته بشن تیکه تیکه بشن واسه تو وشاهزادتو امثال شما ها 🤮
کثافت بودن هم حد و اندازه داره که متاسفانه هرکی که صدای تریبونش یه کم بلند میشه کثافت بودن به حد اعلی خودش میرسونه
شرم بر تو و اون شاهزادتو و امثال شماها
تحلیل های مسخره 😡
کثافتتون هر روز بیشتر و بیشتر میاد بیرون
It was just TWO days.
And those two days were enough to uproot history from its place.
Forty days have passed since those two days—
when forty thousand loving souls stayed behind.
In those two days, dawn had no meaning,
night offered no refuge.
Hours shattered.
The calendar closed its mouth.
Who commanded death to race like that?
Who believed haste could be innocent?
Names became numbers before they were spoken—
numbers buried before they were understood.
Mothers neither wept nor screamed—
they turned death into eternity.
Fathers stood firm so the earth wouldn’t collapse.
Mourners danced their grief until the sky trembled.
Where was it written that love could be finished in two days?
Who said the future would be this defenseless?
They didn’t come to be heroes,
didn’t leave to become legends—
they came because truth had a name,
they left because truth was left alone.
Two days—
a city turned hell,
a generation that showed the world its sleepwalking eyes.
Now forty days have passed,
and we still carry forty thousand unspilled loves,
forty thousand unbroken sobs,
forty thousand cheeks left unkissed.
This fortieth isn’t for the dead to rest—
it’s for the living to stay awake.
Their memory doesn’t fit in numbers.
It won’t sit inside headlines.
Their memory is a question that every morning asks us:
Today—for dignity, for freedom,
and for those who walked the path before us—
what have we done?
Poet, Helia Sedighi
ایرانم، وطنم، عزیزانم، مردمم، سرزمینم تنها کاری که ازم بر میومد در مقابل این همه ظلمی که شما ها هر روز تحمل میکنید در مقابل غمی که تو قلباتونِ این بود که فریاد بزنم. با تمام خشمم مرگ بر خامنه ای، مرگ بر سپاهی و ایرانِ آزاد و فریاد زدم.
به امید آزادی تکتک شماها 🤍🤍
#feb14foriran
#iranmassacre
It has been about 40 days since #iranmassacre, Iranian are devastated both inside and outside of Iran. When I was watching those videos, for a moment I felt that maybe, just maybe, our voice had been heard—maybe all the effort we put into social media had paid off for little bit, because the news coming from the islamic regime is so different from what exactly happening.
#FreeIran
#R2PforIran
#IranRevoIution2026
#NoDealWithMullahs
به امید آزادی 🤍
اضافه شده:
من فکر کردم با ویدیو بهتر میتونم منظورم و برسونم ولی به نظر میاد اینطور نبوده چند تا نکته را اینجا مینویسم.
۱- من هر لحظه منتظرم که ترامپ تصمیم بگیره که اینا رو نابود کنه
۲- من مخالف هزار درصد جمهوری کثیف اسلامی ام
۳- کل حرف من اینه که ماهایی که اینجا هستیم یه کم ملاحظه کار تر رفتار کنیم در مقابل هم و نظر های همدیگر و بشنویم
۴- من موافق پهلوی نیستم ولی با تمام موافق نبودنم منتظرم که یه راهی رو برای نجات ایران باز کنه
۵- اگه از گلشیفته یا مسیححرف زدم هدف اینه که تو بازی این خوبه و اون بده نریم با یه کم مکث شاید بتونیم بهتر کنار هم به نتیجه برسیم 🤍
7,870.0 miles away from my home, my beautiful IRAN 🤍, and my brave people 🤍.
I'm filled with mixed emotions - happiness, sadness, hope, and fear for their life and their future.
This is the turning point; this has to be The End.
This is the spark of hope.
This is the Revolution 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
#iranprotests #iran #womanlifefreedom
