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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Philosophy >> ID #1456558 |
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The facade, stoic exterior and imposing entry edifice.
Officiousness, imprinted in the bricks. Institutional architecture, rising in front, as one walks the walk. I go voluntarily, many others do not. Through sally ports, clanging automatic heavy metal grills. Then, a hush, contrasting quiet to the cacophony of clanging, walking down the corridors of convicts. In a short walk, a world of unimpeded movement and open possibilities is gone. Joining the throngs of the misused and users, liars and thieves. Addicts all, to power, violence, drugs. Convicts. On my walk, I greet the gatekeeper, the keeper of the keys. Everyday, within me, the same question, "Will I be their prey today?" Safety requires it, sanity precludes it. And so, on my walk, I pray a silent prayer each day. Fear shown is a loss of control. Compassion, caring, freely given is regaining control-the reason to be here. In a short walk, I can choose to make a difference, to give this walk meaning and significance. For the inmates, their daily walk: Razor wire, pepper gas, riot batons. Shanks, hooch, shakedown, lock down. Death row, a short walk. I'm a visitor, eight a day. On staff but on death row too. That's the truth, life's way.
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