Quote of the Week (28)

Sleeping Convicts in the Cellblock

They dream the sun rising above carved cliffs,
Dawn's transparent nets of mist
Float over the stone,
And stars breathe their last dim flames
Into the crystal pure air of twilight
The whole prison is asleep.
A long song bird alights on the windowsill
With outspread wings,
In beautiful halo of widening dawnlight;
When the clang and grind of steel doors is silent,
It sings to the new day,
Its wings beckoning for flight. Its wings flap,
And a lone feather twirls softly down
From the high rafters.
As it swoops out a broken window.

- Jimmy Santiago Baca