The same fetid breath and unwashed bodies ambling into line three times a day
The acrid stench of toilet paper burned to heat water for coffee
Backed up sewage and sour mop overpowering the smell of mystery meat
The odor of unflushed commodes first thing in the morning
Prayer oil mixed with water as a pretend air freshener that does nothing of the sort
Freedom is brine on the wind mingled with pine and oleander.
Freedom is not . . .
Bitter
Nauseating
Sour or rotten
Freedom is your favorite food, cooked to perfection, just like mom used to make
Freedom is not . . .
Hot, humid air making sleep impossible
Cold steel locked around the wrists and ankles
An empty stomach and dry throat
A beating by your “caretakers”
Isolation
Hatred
Fear or disgust
Freedom is the intimate touch of a woman.
Freedom is not . . .
A cell door slamming shut
An intercom blaring announcements everyday
The word “inmate” used as a pejorative
Mindless complaints, arguments, and one-sided conversations to nowhere
A court’s assurance of “harmless errors”
A lawyer’s meaningless platitude that at least a life sentence is a life
Freedom is silence.
Freedom is not . . .
Observing an act of injustice and doing nothing about it
Seeing time ravage your loved ones as you spend your life in prison
Witnessing the outside world from an arrow slit window
Watching your friends get escorted to death watch
Being blind to your own failings while pointing at your neighbor’s
Freedom is a starry sky pierced by a mountaintop.
Freedom is not . . .
Willful ignorance
Intolerance
Hypocrisy
Bigotry
Or an excuse to do evil
Freedom is choosing to live the second time as you should have lived the first.