“The pen”, slang for the penitentiary. Prison, a waste land of lost lives, failed
people. It’s dirty, dangerous,
hopeless. And, for most people, a world
for “them” – you know, the bad guys which we want nothing to do with.
Then there’s the “pen”, fancy or plain, it is known to be “mightier
than the sword”. It can express our
collective dreams: “we hold these truths
to be self –evident…”; a source of comfort – “fear not, I am with you…”; and
love, appreciation or desire, “And I will always love you…”.
This week, I was asked why I continue to write about this
place. Why don’t I write about travel
and life outside, why focus on this prison, why use my pen to write about the
pen? A friend, a guy from a world as far
removed from mine as is possible and yet who has become like a brother
remembered a piece I shared with our writing class. It was about writing from inside here.
The pen quite literally saved my life. Imagine going in a few hours from the life
you’ve lived your entire time on earth and being dropped into the middle of a
completely alien world. You looked out
of place; you didn’t speak the language.
It appeared dangerous, dark and hopeless. And, there was no getting out. Everything you knew “before” was leaving
you: family, friends, wealth,
status. You were in a brave, new world
and those familiar with both sides were betting you wouldn’t make it.
So, I began writing a daily diary recounting all I saw, all I
felt and experienced, to keep my sanity.
There was pain and sadness, but also notes about meals and card games,
and simple acts of kindness being shown.
It was cathartic and enlightening.
And after a short while, I realized I knew very little about the world
so many I saw came from. But, at the end
of the day, most had the same hopes and dreams I had. People, I began to realize, weren’t “us” or “them”. It was “we”.
We all want to be loved and appreciated.
We all want a chance at happiness.
I started the blog almost three years ago as a way of
bringing my two worlds together. It
began as a dream to let my family – and me – heal but also explain to those out
in the “real world” what prison is all about.
Many times I write about very ugly things, people not being “the better
angels in themselves”, to borrow from President Lincoln. And the longer I’m in here, the more confused
I become about our collective inability to see right from wrong, to do justice,
and to walk humbly before our God.
There is much to be discouraged about when living in
here. Guys do things that don’t make
sense. But, society is like that. We all, I fear, fall short of the mark. And even in this place I am constantly
surprised by the decency, the humanity of men who “good people” think are
beyond redemption.
Redemption. Maybe in
the end that’s what this is all about. I’ve
learned that society’s views on crime, punishment and rehabilitation are
flawed. We can, we must, do better. Too many lives are being lost. It’s a vicious cycle of hopelessness,
despair, and ignorance. Drugs, violence,
prison, it repeats over and over.
Today is the first Sunday in Advent, the beginning of the “new”
year for those of us touched by God’s grace.
Advent is a season of hope. It’s
a time when the word “Emmanuel”, “God with us”, stirs in our hearts and
souls. And the pen, this writing
implement helps me record the hope I feel despite of what I sometimes see.
The “pen” is a tragic, lost place. Words, however, are stronger than any fence,
wall or darkness in the human condition.
Perhaps that’s why it makes such perfect sense to read the Apostle Paul’s
words of encouragement to the church at Ephesus. “Rejoice”, he wrote, “in the Lord
always. Again, I say rejoice.”
He wrote that from prison.
