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Based on the 'tweets' of a medical student, single parent (let's call him Muhammad)
, between Monday 15th and Friday 19th June 2009. In his messages he referred to his daughter as Azadeh (Farsi for 'freedom fighter', as I understand, for I don't speak the language) - I believe the name was symbolic rather than actual, and therefore I also use it here with its double meaning.
Copyright George Papavgeris, June 2009
There's a body lying on the table
On the bed two more, but they are stable
Just three nameless victims of their courage
And he doesn't even have a bandage
But he does the best that he can manage
And he thinks of little Azadeh

From mid-morning everyday they gather
Sons and daughters of a million mothers
In the sea of green to drown the fakers
The unholy movers and the shakers
Those who make the laws and the lawbreakers
Those who want to shackle Azadeh

They're his friends and neighbours and relations
With a hunger spanning generations
But his skills are needed so they hide him
On the street basiji try to find him
On the news announcers try to blind him
And to take away his Azadeh

He would rather wear the green beside them
Asking for the freedom that's denied them
But they bring him wounded from the slaughter
And he hopes one day to be a doctor
And he hopes to see again his daughter
Little bright canary, Azadeh

Working with no rest since Monday morning
As he keys a message there's a warning
In the hall there's creaking of the timbers
In his heart the ice of countless winters
Then the door falls in a million splinters
As he cries for freedom: 'Azadeh!'

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