Notes from Exile: Grief
Log/Verse: daily reflections from prison, written every morning at my bunk. Part poem, part log book.
Another excerpt from my prison journal, written while I was still incarcerated
A DIFFERENT KIND OF GRIEF
Crossing over from the sleep that holds the secrets, I’m confronted by a different kind of grief. Not death, lifes regular order, but my lost life still playing out in dark background, retracing and revising all those turning points and crossroads that know the secrets, revealing themselves only in dreams of ambiguous code. All the epiphanies that wakeful promises disappoint, leading me back at the end of the day, to that uncomfortable sleep and its terrifying nocturnal reels.
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