Flying

For as long as I can remember, awake or asleep, I’ve wanted to fly. No, don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mean in a plane, or with equipment. I wanted to spread my arms and fly peacefully, high through the sky, seeing the earth, the streets, the buildings grow small beneath me… To feel a lovely breeze, even the fine mist of clouds, on my face… to be free, free… I remember dreaming that I could fly. But every time I leaped and rose just above the buildings, before anything could grow small, or rather insignificant, gravity would overpower me and pull me fast toward the ground. I remember trembling with fear and excitement as I fell, then waking in terror just before I hit it… Years passed with those dreams and feelings. I asked myself what had happened. Why had I stopped thinking of flying? Why didn’t I dream of it anymore? Had the joy of freedom and that lovely breeze stopped appealing to me? I realized I still longed to fly with all my heart. Then, as I thought about it, my stomach dropped. I remembered falling. I remembered that damned gravity, which stole the feeling, the freedom, from me each time. I saw that I was the one who had killed my love of flying. Out of fear of falling, I had stopped flying. Out of fear of failure, I had stopped leaping, and become earthbound… A storm rose inside me. I wanted to fly more than ever… but I was afraid. I looked around and thought of how light and free I used to feel when I flew. In those moments I didn’t think of falling. I had courage, and that was why I felt such joy. Then I asked myself, why did I fall at all? I knew how to fly. Even if I came down, I could leap again. Besides, I always came down, but I never once saw myself hit the ground. Fear woke me before that could happen. So perhaps the fear isn’t real at all… Or if it is, the answer isn’t to give up freedom. The answer is to leap higher… to land more gently… My fellow Iranian, my dear one, my friend, a piece of my own flesh: For years we gave up the joy of freedom out of fear of oppression and defeat. Little by little we forgot that freedom, that flight through the skies of our homeland, Iran, is our right. We feared a fall that existed only in our minds. They built a hell for us and made us fear the fires of judgment. They made our world a hell and set our land ablaze. It is time to spread our arms and rise like a phoenix from Iran’s ashes. It is time to fly. It is time not only to cry out for freedom, but to live it. Long live Iran. Long live the Shah.