Do not think that ye are forgotten

On this Baha’i Rights Day, day of awareness of the denial of human rights to Baha’s in the cradle of this world-unifying religion, we sigh with relief — the trial of the 7 Iranian Baha’i leaders has been postponed. But can you imagine the prolonged agony and anxiety of not knowing what will happen next? Can you imagine the spiritual strength these souls must have acquired in their reliance on God alone? Can you imagine how they must face moments of weakness when it would be only natural to wonder if they are forgotten — by the world, by the friends, by ‘Abdu’l-Baha, by Baha’u’llah, by God?

Many creative people have shared their inspiration online — see this video of Elika Mahony‘s beautiful song “Persecution“:

or this video adopted from the award winning movie “Persepolis”:

But what most personally touches my heart these days, probably because I relate to it on a very deep level, is the beautiful, touching song “Forgotten” by Grant Hindin Miller:

The cell was like a kennel, they dropped him like a dog
Staring at cold metal, in a blurred and darkened fog
Plucked from his own work-place, innocent of crime
Taken, shaken, in the late daylight

The prison was a chasm, wind was in the yard
They took him out an hour each day, herded by the guards
Shuffling over concrete, with the other inmates there
Not allowed to speak in open air

And the iron bars, dark and hard, spider-webbed, human cage
Especially when evening came, they drilled into his brain

Left alone in shadow, not knowing noon from night
Mealtimes infrequent, rudimentary slop
The cell was cramped, inhuman, with a never-ending smell
He tried to pray, but every day, his thoughts went to himself

I’m forgotten, I’m forsaken, I’ve been left here on my own
I’m forgotten, I’m forsaken, left here to die alone

Cut off from his family, cut off from his friends
Where was Baha’u’llah, now he needed Him
Even Abdu’l-Baha, neglected where he was
He felt his consciousness slip down – to the abyss

I’m forgotten, I’m forsaken, You have left me on my own
I’m forgotten, my faith is shaken, left here to die alone

In the yard a prisoner brushed against his arm
No bigger than a finger-nail, something squeezed between his palms
And in his cell when guards had gone, he found it like a star
The torn-off photograph of Abdu’l-Baha

And words arose, in the Master’s tone, stirred up from long ago
Learnt by heart in a children’s class, now they echoed in his cell
“Do not think that ye are forgotten, for one moment, do not think
Do not think that ye are forgotten, for one moment, do not think ”

And the iron bars, like candelabras, they dissolved in a rosy gold
Angels soared within his soul, as the words spoke to his heart

Do not think that ye are forgotten, for one moment, do not think
Do not think that ye are forgotten, for one moment, do not think.

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