CONFINED ACKNOWLEDGMENT

BY CHRIS LEWIS

A response at mail delivery,
here in the prison, the snake pit.
A packet with familiar letterhead,
approbation and love through lines
of understanding …
“One small crystal that gleams,”
Shining even in shadows
where gallows hang.
I hold you, and I am back.
Horseshoed tables, stained white board,
hard plastic folding chairs,
white paper coffee Cubs,
thank you for the medicine …
And I am there.

Delicately plucked acoustic strings,
my sensei brings
transcendental heartbeat,
collective drum, our voice.
My brothers and sister
your truths and precious time
they carry me through
my banishment, journey new.
I sing your names in war;
in peace I ponder your pains,
and I am there.

Pragmatically, I have waited,
through introspection for growth.
My mind agape, I embrace
love, a tool and trade
of time; cosmic creations
left to find in the rubble
and brine of yesterday’s storms
I adorn…
You;
the circle as my crown.
Barefoot and alone,
I bask in blissful abundance
for I am home;
understanding you are my passage
out of hell.
“Who understands me,
when I say this is beautiful?”
Yes, it is other freedoms,
in time I have found.
To Baca, this truth resounds!
To love I am humbled,
to love I bow,
and I am there.

            — ex Omnia, February 2024 | CL

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Written with inspiration from Jimmy Santiago Baca, “who understands me but me.”  (The Sun Magazine, Feb. 1983); Tracy Schlapp, Danny Wilson, and the writers of the PonyXpress; and Denise Levertov. I thank you for all your Truths, for your Art. 

ORIGINALLY FROM SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA, CHRIS LEWIS IS OF IRISH AND UKRAINIAN DECENT. HE LOVES AND APPRECIATES THE ART, BEAUTY, AND UTILITY OF WRITING. CHRIS IS AN ENTHUSIASTIC MEMBER OF THE GROUND BENEATH US WRITING GROUP, THOUGH HE IS NO LONGER AT OREGON STATE PENITENTIARY.