By JD Frandsen
From PHN Issue 57, Summer 2024
I know your shade of blue. I existed for 13 years in a maximum-security facility, a bleak, lifeless place with no trees, no humanity, and no hope. I am now at a minimum camp, and any petty infraction could send me back to that awful place where old homies have died and the suicide wind blows like devils screaming. Anxiety is my constant companion. But this day, my friends, I implore you all never to give up.
I beg you, you who feel the weight of living pushing down on your spirit. The one constant in our universe is change. Death is a guarantee, but life isn’t. This living deal might be the greatest gift we ever get. So, we will hope to give us power. Power over the dogs who treat us ill, power to cut down regret, and defeat, and lonesomeness. You are
stronger than the depression and more resilient than your oppressors—just look at how much danger you have already passed. There are many instances in history when apparent failures unexpectedly turned out to be winners, so you should never conclude that all hope is lost. Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, with the same weapons of reason, which today arm you against the present. You have the power over your mind—not outside measures. A great step toward liberation is a good-humored stomach, one that is willing to endure rough treatment. Life keeps us guessing, but hope keeps us living, anticipating something real around the corner. I was celled up for three years with a man serving life. He had conceded to die in that place, and he kept only a small spark of hope. Then, a letter came in the mail, and my friend was soon free. He now sends me too many pictures of his five cats and his charming wife. Anything that could happen—can happen at any time. The mission now is to endure, and wild love will find its way to your doorstep singing sweetly. To hell with regret, and may the darkness catch fire and be forgotten. Broad-winged Archangels soar beside you now, and the Fates will direct your soul toward vast, inexplicable wonders. Hang tough.
“Hope has become the secret weapon of the forces of liberation.” —Harry S. Truman, 1945
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