It is said that when you lose your loved ones, you don't feel the severity of the situation for several days. That it is only after some time that you actually come to comprehend your real loss and what is absent from your life.
Probably the presence of a congregation of people empathizing over your loss helps to abate the true melancholy of the situation.
This is felt only after all the mourners have left you. It's only then that you become conscious of the loneliness residing in your abode, leaving you exposed to the calamities lying ahead.
As if this was the night for me. The night I realized how the world had come crashing down on me. Not even the flickering of a [moth] could disturb the echoing darkness of this night into a faint smile.
Tonight I truly realized that I am bereft of my homeland for another four years.
Another four years of shouting and fighting against deceit and treachery and dishonesty, and combating them. There's a bizarre feeling, a deep sorrow that has taken over my heart like a mother who just lost her son or a thirsty striving after a mirage.
Even the gloomy skies seem to mourn our sorrows in Iran these days, for they could not bear the desolation.
I am wondering how we are going to tolerate seeing all that in front of the camera, how we are going to tolerate a president who is a disgrace to the world in a true sense.
We are even tired of making jokes about Khamenei's crippled hand. My grandmother expounds on the situation, saying the tragedy is a result of all the injustice, killings, and the humiliation and false accusations against innocents.
Aside from having faith in no one, I know only that the sky of my heart is dusty and I am miserable. God give us the patience and courage to endure this dilemma.