The Prisoners
Steel doors—guillotine gates—
of the doorless house closed massively.
We were locked in with loss.
Guards frisked us, marked our wrists,
then let us into the crab Rec Hall—
splotched green walls, high windows barred—
where the dispossessed awaited us.
Hands intimate with knife and pistol,
hands that had cruelly grasped and throttled
clasped ours in welcome. I sensed the plea
of men denied: Believe us human
like yourselves, who but for Grace...
We shared reprieving hidden Words
revealed by the Godlike imprisoned
One, whose crime was truth.
And I read poems I hoped were true.
It’s like you been there, brother, been there,
the scarred young lifer said.
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