"YOU ARE NEVER ALONE"

I wrote this in the Penitentiary; 20 years ago. It is from my book, "A Poet Dreams".

I notice them all: the convicts who've lost their way, the convicts who've left their families in ruin, the convicts who hate, the convict who fear, the convicts who have to prove themselves. I see them all.

I look at the walls here at USP Florence and the cursed ground imprisoned within them. I look to the mountains off in the distance and love them, for they're the mother who watches protectively over me. "I think, therefore I am", NO!! I think, therefore I am not.

In order to survive I have learned to live in the past and in the future, but seldom in the present. Just another wounded soul, I guess, an unyielding survivor, the family ghost rattling his chains with pen and ink. One destined to do that which is painful ... remembering!

At night I work my craft, my irrepressible creative powers. I dream. I weave into my dream bits of love and bits of anger. I grind my teeth, and I concentrate on that which will come.

I see her. I am there with her. I press my lips to her cheek. I hear her. "I love you," she says. I turn away from her for reasons noble. I have no right to be in her dreams or to bring her sorrow upon awakening. My mind is after all, the confessional of my soul. I go to another place, not to my body, the place where my wellbeing has been enshrined, encapsulated. I see the flame in my chest. All is good. I long to be with her. I crave a miracle

Sleep. Silence. Nothing. Darkness. Sounds. The song of faraway winds. The sound of moving water. I am home! I am walking the beach in my shadow.  A woman and a baby. What are they doing out so late? Homeless! The babe sees me. I smile, but that smile is followed by sorrow, sorrow for what might have been had not the monsters of my own making ruined it.

The babe watches, not knowing what I am. It is not repelled nor is it fearful. It seems to sense my soul, my heart. I cast bold, powerful visions to the baby, I tell the baby about eternity and  of a love-filled world. I speak of things uncommitted to the records of humanity. I look away from the babe and talk to the heavens of things I cannot speak of with you, my reader.
Who else is bold enough? I ask. Who else has the courage? I receive no response. I feel compelled to be silent. Then I am gone.

I lie atop my bunk and feel the ache within my stomach and encourage the tingling in my limbs, but it does not come, so I listen to the random sound of prison misery near and far. Violent thoughts there, sobbing somewhere, sorrow everywhere.

I think of her, and I let myself imagine that we are together, she in her cosmic destiny, a destiny that divides us, a life torn away from us like a filthy garment. I feel safe with her. Then I hear a voice saying "I must go now." I bolt upright, only then realizing that I had been asleep. My heart flutters, and happiness overwhelms me. She has come to me, as I had to her.

I sit on the edge of my bed, and I contemplate my good fortune. I thought she had forgotten me. I remember her humble strength and her enlarged soul; then comes grief to claim its pound of flesh as always, and I hurt. I realize, however, that even though a thousand miles stand between us,that she is forever with me. I smile knowing that my loneliness will never be as bitter as it could have been if I were truly alone without her.

#Mayor Mark says: The secret is: A man is never alone when he has a daughter.

 

Bastrop, TX 11-2-26