Don’t stop talking about Iran. Because silence is what they count on. Silence is how graves become numbers. Silence is how mothers learn to cry without sound. This is how we say goodbye to our loved ones: Not in quiet hospital rooms. Not with old age and gentle goodnights.... But with trembling hands… With rushed phone calls… With a knock on the door that splits a life in two. We say goodbye through prison walls. Through barred windows. Through dirt thrown onto coffins too small, too soon. We memorize the last smile. The last voice message. The last “I’ll be back soon.” And when they don’t come back … we don’t get closure. We get questions. We get fear. We get a folded flag, or a body returned in silence, or sometimes not even that. In Iran, goodbye is not soft. It is sharp. It is unfinished. It echoes. A mother presses her face into her child’s shirt just to breathe in what remains. A father stands taller than his breaking heart because someone must be strong. A sister scrolls through old photos at 3 a.m. refusing to believe that memory is all that’s left. This is how we say goodbye: With courage we did not choose. With strength we did not ask for. With tears we are told to hide. But listen carefully — our goodbyes are not surrender. Every whispered name becomes resistance. Every story told keeps a heartbeat alive. Every tear says: “You were here. You mattered. You are not erased.” So don’t stop talking about Iran. Say their names. Tell their stories. Remember their laughter, not just their suffering. Because as long as we speak, as long as we remember, as long as we refuse to let silence win. goodbye is not the end. #IranMassacre #CrimeAgainstHumanity #FreeIranshow more

Darya Safai MP

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