Close your eyes and try to create, or imagine this scene.

There is a lock-down. Cell-blocks, long, narrow and dim. They all have solid steel doors. They are all on one side. It is late at night; not much sound…

Then… a moan, followed by a groan…then…a lone voice… “at least when he was here, on the compound, we used get postings and updates from that thing he helped start”

Then another unseen voice chimmed in… “yea, the WeBelieveGroup.”

“Yea, that’s it, the WeBelieveGroup, at least those postings gave us hope.”

Another unseen voice, from way down block yelled… “I wish George never left.”

Anyways, just this week, a convict came from the USP-1 that I was at before coming over here. He told me of what I have just relayed above.

After, I went find somewhere I could be alone, to ponder. I thought of the caged hearts, the guys I left behind, the guys that have been wasting away…almost to a point where they can’t even dream of love, nevermind hope.

I have asked John, to please send some letters, postings and articles of “updates” and “hope”. (I know he will, or most likely already did when he read this) I have realized that when I leave one “fourth world” for the next, I can not just be gone. No, I must try and still be there, even if it is only in words.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 24th, 2007 at 9:25 am and is filed under 4th world, George Martorano, narrative, prison, story, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.