Prison – A Village of Stone
Today, I find myself sitting here in the “yard”. I’m sitting on a low concrete divider that divides the grass from more concrete.
Not too far from me is a long line of inmates waiting to get into the chow hall… I watch them and write. Because of this blog I am never without a pad and pen. For I have to seek out personal news from this “Village of Stone”.
As I look at the line, I can see I am not of them. For I know, that the tortures that have been placed upon me over the past 2 decades, that most, if not all in that line could not have endured it. There are those that I have left behind in some of those hell holes that can survive. Surviving it is not what impresses me though… What impresses me, is when those that do survive it, survive it with their mind intact.
I’ve never lost my cool, never. I’ve never complained to anyone when the worst was laid upon me. If you can wash your face twice a day, shave everyday, workout and write when no one is there to see or hear you except the four walls, and walk out with your mind, then, and only then will I will pat you on the back. But guess what?? I have never been able to pat anyone on the back in the 24 years I have been here.
So, today, I sit looking at those in the long line, their gray shadows. I too have a shadow. Yet, when I stare at mine long enough, colors begin to drape my silhoutte. I just sit here, looking, praying. Praying that none of my loved ones have to take this journey to see their colored shadow.