If I sat waiting in Ashraf,

For whatever happens next,

I would know my life was precious

To millions I’ve never met.

If I went to bed hungry in Ashraf

And shivered in the cold,

I would be warmed with the knowledge

That our story would be told.

If I awoke in Ashraf

With the mullahs in my ears,

I would laugh the day through

To think of all their fears.

If I lay bleeding in Ashraf,

This, at least, I would know:

That my blood was part of a river

From which democracy flows…

If I was dying in Ashraf

From medicine denied,

I’d know that all my people

Would speak my name with pride.

Were I a martyr of Ashraf,

But there was no grave for me,

My spirit would be purified

By the whole world’s prayers for me

Because we came to Ashraf

With one clear destiny:

To pay the price of freedom

So our people might be free.

Carole Fontaine

May, 2011