Below is a translation of a letter from the family of one of the Baha’i youth imprisoned in Shiraz, voluntarily translated by Omid G:

O God, what can I write? Who can I write to? What recourse have I? I have no one but you, I have no helper except you. I am helpless in every way. All I have is to seek your protection, to beg for your help. You are my helper. You are the All-Knowing and are aware of what is in every heart. By your own Lordship, ordain whatever you know to be best for these dear prisoners whose only crime has been serving the human race and those who are in need. I am a father who rises early every morning and with a hopeful heart, goes to visit the holy places to pray for the safety and release of these precious prisoners and to pray for all of humanity. I beg Him to grant perseverance to my family and I and to all other families who have loved ones that have been imprisoned for the crime of serving humanity. I beg Him to grant these loved ones strength and perseverance to get through this divine test with pride. O God, as I write this letter, my son’s picture is before me and I am thinking of what two other families, like me, are going through and how concerned they must be for their loved ones. What can we do? We must be content with the good-pleasure of God. Let me say a few words about my son, Sasan. According to everyone, he was one of the most lovable individuals in this community, always sharing in the joys and sorrows of others, a friend and mentor to other youth his age, and always eager to help others in their time of need in any way possible.

It’s me. A mother. A mother to who God gave three children, Sasan being my oldest son. I want to write about the day that God gave me Sasan. Before Sasan was born, two of my previous children had died of illnesses. The day Sasan was born, I placed him in the care of God. When his uncle read the verse (the prayer that is recited into the ears of newborn babies) into Sasan’s ear, I made an oath to raise him in such a way that he will follow only the right path. After Sasan, God gave me two daughters who I raised in the same way. Ever since he was a child, Sasan was a lovable boy. In the early years of the revolution, when they expelled all the children from school, Sasan was likewise expelled. His teachers loved him so much that they wept for him. As he grew older, the love and attraction those around him had for him increased. He grew more sincere, more selfless. Every night, well into the late hours, he would serve and look after the youth his age and others in the community with the most tender-care.

I would sit at home waiting for him to return, counting the minutes. As soon as I heard the door, I would warm up his food. How many a night did I stay up late waiting for him to put his key in the door and say, ‘Mom, Dad, I’m home.’ Its now 16 days that my son has been sitting alone in the corner of a prison cell in these autumn nights while his father, sister and I wait eagerly for him to return. Lord, are service, being kind, and caring for others a crime? Do his father and I deserve in our old age to sit in anticipation of him to return to us? Every day, we count the seconds until Tuesday when we can see our son for 4-5 minutes from behind a glass. God, at this age, I long to see my son wearing a tuxedo, but alas, he is wearing a prison uniform—a uniform with the scales of justice on it, but alas, these are the scales of injustice, not justice. O God, hear my cry for help and release my son. Bring back those nights when I would stay up late eagerly waiting for him for return.

We are Sasan’s sisters, one 3 years younger and the other 6 years younger than him. However, neither our age difference—nor even our gender difference—has ever posed an obstacle in our relationship with Sasan. Each of us loves Sasan in her own special way. I am the older sister. Prior to my marriage, Sasan would help me in every way and take care of me. After my marriage, he would continue to help me in every way as before. He loves my husband like a brother. He does everything in his power for me. If I were to write about it all, this letter would become too long. I will hand the pen over to my younger sister, who misses him more than anyone else these days. She also performed some of the same services that Sasan was rendering.

I am the younger sister. I was also imprisoned for a week and know the kind of place that prison is. God only knows how close I am to Sasan. If I ever sensed that Sasan was sad or upset, I too became upset. I wouldn’t sleep at night until Sasan returned home. I’d call him more than three times a day on his phone. But, it has now been some time since we heard his voice, his laughter, his jokes here at home. At night, I sit and wait hoping that he will return at some late hour. But when I see his picture, I remember that he is in prison because of his convictions, because of his country, because of his countrymen. I sometimes cry, I cry from missing him, but I also yearn, I yearn for the innocent youth who are imprisoned for their country. God help me because I feel that the load of responsibility that Sasan had taken on his shoulders is now being placed on mine since my older sister is married and lives far from us. Lord, grant patience to my father and mother so they may witness their children’s success with their own eyes. O God, every day, I stretch out my arms to you and pray to you to administer justice to them. Be their shield and protector. As I write these words, my mother has been staring at Sasan’s picture. She says nothing. My father recites prayers under his breath. Whatever you have decreed Lord is certainly what is best. Have mercy on these three families and grant them strength and perseverance.