5/11/2008

Happy Mother's Day! I sent cards to both my mother and grand-mother. I wish I could've sent cards/letters to both my ex-wives and mothers to my children, but they would be ill received and I think against the law. I have to remember that part of my life is forever gone. Got a letter from my mother yesterday, she's coming to visit next week. I'm attending a spiritual writing workshop next week. Not much else going on. I wrote a new poem, if you can call it t hat, it's called "Corkboard of Escape"

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

Corkboard of Escape

In prison, when the day is done and you're locked down, there's not much to look at. In my cell it's just me, God, my television, and my prison issued corkboard where I get to hang my pictures. Every night I stare at it, my eyes wandering from picture to picture, taking in the smiles and the beautiful scenery. I lose myself in each frozen moment of time. I reminisce and meditate on friends, family and children and the moments I've had with them in my brief 32 years on this earth. Sometimes the memories are pleasant, filled with joy and happiness. Most of the time though they are just filled with longing sadness. I desperately grasp to hold on to the past happy memories but it's like trying to capture fog. My heart is going to burst, my guts turn inside-out, vertigo sets in as joy, love, loss and sorrow hit me in the same instant, washing over me, crushing me. It's the most exquisite suffering. My eyes well up and overflow with silent weeping and the world swims in lost focus while I wonder how one person can endure such suffering. Then I remember the suffering of Jesus. With a single shuddering inhalation, and lucid again, my eyes refocus on the bright silver tacks that hold memories in place. Thirty-three fish-eyed mirrors reflecting the same image back at me. Tiny unblinking eyes of God, showing a grown weeping man. Squinting to get a clearer view, I wonder "Who is that?" Husband? - Nope divorced twice. Father? Not anymore. Brother, son, nephew, grandson, friend? The answer is none of the above. It's just a sinner, a baffled stranger, even to myself, staring back. State issued corkboard of escape? Not today. Not this time. Fatigued, exhausted and drained He makes me lie down. It's not a green pasture, but it is a relief as I slip into coma sleep. He gives me peace and makes me sleep. And for that I am thankful.