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Photo by A n v e s h on Unsplash

Heavy my soul,
And cold
As the steel shackles that
Clamp my ankles and wrists
As I sit…

Headed nowhere for miles and miles,
and further still.
No longer a man,
just cargo.
Gone away forever…

Never have I heard such silence

as that imposed by those with shotguns
who stand over us.
Row after row
of cargo…

Shifting and nervy we sit,
gazing dazed
through windows that beacon,
one last look
at the world we are leaving…

Not by choice, but by choices,
made without consideration of consequence.

The voyage of
The convicted.

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Christopher Bryson is a reporter for the The Mule Creek Post, a newspaper published out of Mule Creek State Prison in California, where he is incarcerated.