Wednesday, April 11, 2012



Surrounded by the hustle and bustle and noise of the condemned. You will get what you deserve, he said to me. Why is he here, the captain asked. Don't know, came the answer. Did he ask for a lawyer? Lock him up and read him his rights.

Smells of closeness and feels like the rough texture of iron.

We are all guilty, they said.
What did you do?
I don't know, I replied.
Are you guilty?
I am here, I replied.

The right to remain silent. Silence is a right. The privilege of not talking and being condemned. Guilty, he never said a word. Plead guilty and you will get off easy. Show remorse and you will get off easy.

I am guilty and I am sorry.
What did he do, asked the judge?
I don't know, the lawyer said. He refuses to speak.

Silence condemns him. Two years in solitary.

Tell them what you have done. He slowly walks around the yard. They must let you go. He went into the hole.
Loud crashing noises of breaking glass and the hiss of falling missiles.
Laughter comes easy when the jokes are small. The noise is broken by the tears falling upon the stone. Silence continues within the imploding darkness. Loud screeches beneath the door.
Time has passed quickly outside the door.
What have you done. He walks around the yard.

Passed around from hand to hand, cheek to cheek. Love, not perfect but better than being alone. If you can't get it, you take what comes.
Soft and sweet, clean and neat.
Depression is more honest and real, more comfortable.
Wish to cry but the tears were lost in solitary.
Violence is silence, no eyes to see and no ears to hear.
The end of the beating and falling slowly to the floor.

Not guilty the jury speaks. The riot begins. The injustice. The bitch had friends and lovers who stood up and shouted. Injustice.
Sex heals all wounds.
The fires, the screams and bullets. The victim is released by the back door.
The feelings are hard and unapologetic.
Hate is a sound that cannot be silenced.

He remains silent.

The logical end to the road and only plausible exit. Refusing, he shouts out and screams.
Not going gently into the night.
Nothing to forgive and nothing to forget.
Disobedience to the natural order, cowardice and shame.
The disease has won and the verdict has fallen.

What have I done.

His voice circles the world upon the wind.
All is left behind as he boards the plane.


©Ron Mahedy.

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