The Wind Will Set You Free

The green reeds quietly sway eastwards as the sun fades, casting its shadow over the simmering horizon.  A large boar gently emerges from the shaded mudded creek, closes its eyes, and lets the gentle breeze harden the mud on its face.   When the boar opens its eyes, the flitter of its eyelid causes the mud to break. The mud falls like bits of sand and gently dances in the air like pollen.  The boar is free.

A black-footed ferret gazes up into the oak tree.  The bark of the tree is cold and wetted with the first year’s snowfall.  No matter how much she tries, she cannot climb.  Her eyes are fixated on a particular branch of the oak tree; on that branch rests a robin nest.  The mother robin is away,  the black-footed ferret is a mother too.  She can hear her kits high pitched whimpers crescendo in the wind.  She cannot leave this tree.  The crescendos heighten, and heighten, and heighten.  The black-footed ferret’s gaze focuses on the rattling branch, and then to swiftly to the robin nest which hangs by a thread.  The nest collapses, the eggs fall on the bedded snow with hardly a crack.  The black-footed ferret is free.

The night sky is clouded; the moon emerges from time to time through the clouds. It emerges long enough for the little girl to count its craters, its crevices, and dark spots before it once again vanishes.  The girl sits on a black swing in a small park that only she knows of.  Her fingers grasp the swing‘s alloy chains, but she lacks the energy to swing. Her eyes are red and watery, her head furrowed, her lips downcast like the moon, and her nose sniffles away.  She lets go of her grasp on the alloy chains, and buries her face into her delicate palms. She’s all alone.  Suddenly, a tender gust engulfs her.  Goosebumps emerge under the thickness of her jacket.  The gust holds her tight. Although the green grass, wooden fences, window panes, and trees too bend, the wind is focused on her. It gently grasps her tightly.  She inhales the friendly gust through her nostrils, and lets it rest in her body. The gust dries her water eyes, and her hair blows without inhibition.  The young girl is free.

The wind blows and blows. Through summer and fall, through winter and spring, through times of plenty and times of famine, through times of joy and times of hardness the wind blows.  In your darkest moments and your deepest triumphs, in your light hardships and soft agonies, in your heavy burdens and joyous burdens, the wind blows.  Just like night turns to day and just like the freshness christens the morning air after a night’s rain, the wind blows.  It blows without volition and causes all things to pass.  So, in the servitude of acrimony, the melancholies of melancholy, the nightmares which exist to eyes wide open unburdened with sleep.  Remember like the mudded boar emerging from the creek. Remember lik the black footed ferret gazing up the oak tree.  Remember like the little girl grasping the swing’s alloy chain on that moon covered night.  Remember, just like them, that the Wind will set  you free.

                                                                                                                                         

Confessions of a Prisoner

I’m so lonely.

My loneliness is lonely

My loneliness left me

It found someone.

Now, not even my loneliness can keep me.

Empty. 

The Injustice of Justice: The dense fog surrounding Troy Davis

I still remember September 21st, 2011. Sometimes an event happens that leaves a lingering feeling. Yet, unlike feelings of happiness or sadness or pain or triumph, it lacks a finite categorical description. Thus, one feels a strong feeling, but does not know what such feeling means or what to make of such a feeling. For some, days, months, or years may pass and such a feeling may not leave. Its uncertainty nags like a dark cloudy day interspersed with rays of sunshine. These moments are, from time to time, strongest when the nation stands polarized on a single event. Two sanctimonious sides galloping towards one another like a medieval joust, but the terrain is covered in fog, dense dense fog. Then one realizes that beyond that, circumventing the dense fog, lays a raging pool of vitriol hatred and pacifistic confusion. Yet, the two sides remain galloping forward as the grooves of their horses cause the sand to escape the ground and swirl into the fog creating a sandstorm. They cannot see, nevertheless their speed only increases. Finally, the lance reaches through the dense fog. The lance is sturdy, powerful, and thirsty for blood. And, although its target lies there with dark opaque eyes hiding a more opaque face and his whispers of liberty crescendo, his being and words are covered by the opaqueness of the fog. The jouster reaches its target, and the lance licks its lip from the sweet blood that he has thirsted for over twenty years as though it were divine nectar. Then, the fog disappeared; likewise, the pool of vitriol hatred and confusion disappears as well. The jousters left not a footprint in the sand, and the lance’s only trace is the body of its victim. Indeed, the sand daily buries the body more and more. Soon, there will be no trace of the body at all. Troy Davis was executed September 21st, 2011 for his conviction in a 1989 murder. His last words were, "I'm not the one who personally killed your son, your father, your brother." He breathed his last breath at 11:07, and they declared him dead at 11:08. I tried to see past the dense dense fog, the pool of hate and confusion, and the sand storm. I’m not sure what to feel. I’m not sure how to feel.

Amidst the fog, I heard that there was reasonable doubt as to the murder of which you were convicted. Indeed, of the 9 witnesses that testified against you in your 1989 trial, a trial lacking direct evidence such as DNA or a murder weapon or video, seven recanted his or her testimony. Further, some of those whom recanted against you signed affidavits, sworn statements purporting to the veracity of their statement of recantation. Thus, with callow chants from out the fog screams ring out. REASONABLE DOUBT! REASONABLE DOUBT! The words perforate through the fog and tenaciously attempt to build a resistance against the jouster. Yet, it is an old folk tale that one should not attempt to build on sand. Reasonable doubt is a standard that applies only before a conviction. Every man that takes trial in a criminal court must have his or her guilt proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Indeed, this is the very foundation of the adversarial system that has existed in America for over 200 years and, further, a vestige of the Common Law. However, the reasonable doubt standard does not apply after a person is convicted. Thus, if a person has been found guilty by a full-fledged trial, then the reasonable doubt standard no longer applies. Therefore, one cannot simply wave a magic lasso that holds the words “reasonable doubt” after a person has already been convicted. While I agree that 7 out of 9 witnesses recanting testimony raises major red flags, bellowing “reasonable doubt” is erroneous. Once a person has been convicted, they are no longer presumed innocent; reasonable doubt applies only to those presumed innocent. It is the burden of the prosecution before conviction, not some mantra after a conviction when a witness changes up his or her story. The burdens and standards change drastically after one has been convicted. Thus, it is a gross mischaracterization and misunderstanding to say the conviction is wrong because reasonable doubt exists. With that said, 7 of 9 witnesses recanting should definitely mean something.

More noise rips from out of the fog. The noise fights amongst its posse like a radio surfing the waves of different frequencies. It is full of static. The noise says that clemency should be granted. The noise says life imprisonment should be given instead of the death penalty due to the recantation. The noise says the death penalty racially prejudices minorities unfairly. The noise says the original trial was unfair such as to suggest that death penalty should not be given. Sometimes noise can drown out simple truth. Even if the noise may be true, sometimes there is no reason to be so noisy. The issue is neither clemency, life imprisonment, nor the death penalty being unfair. The issue is guilt versus innocence. The 7 of 9 witnesses recanting did not point to putting Troy in prison for life rather than putting him to death, it pointed to not putting Troy in prison at all. Is it merciful to put someone in prison for murder if they are innocent of the murder? Is it morally right to give someone life imprisonment for a murder instead of death when 7 of 9 witnesses recant saying that Mr.-soon-to-be-in-prison-for-life did not commit the murder? Lastly, is it necessary to say that the death penalty is unjustly racially distributed when the concern should be whether, after the recantation of nearly all the witnesses, a murder conviction [the precursor to the death penalty] should still be warranted at all? I think that it is not necessary. As stated before, noise being right does not mean that the noise is necessary as to the case at hand. I believe it morally wrong to have life imprisonment given to an innocent person, and I think that’s all that matters.

The last bit of noise from the dense fog is intriguing. As stated before, the noise said that the original trial was unfair such as to suggest that death penalty should not be given. Once again, the concern should first be put on the murder conviction and not the death penalty. A conviction of first degree murder in this instance was a necessary condition for the death penalty to be given. Therefore, it should be the proper focus. In most states, first degree murder is the unlawful killing of another person committed in willful and/or premeditative manner with malice aforethought [indeed, malice aforethought may be seen through willfulness and premeditation]. So, was the testimony of 9 witnesses given under oath stating Troy Davis as guilty in a fully adversarial trial sufficient to prove guilt? Well, one cannot look at hindsight to answer such a question, one must look at the time of the trial when no hint that there would ever be a recantation existed. So, the proper question would be, ‘if one was a juror relying on 9 witnesses who gave testimony under oath purporting to a suspect’s guilt and there was no reason to expect that the jurors would lie under oath or later recant testimony, would such testimony be sufficient as evidence in a murder trial?’ If the answer to that question is no, then the problem is not the recantation of witnesses, it is the belief that witness testimony, in and of itself, is not reliable or, at the very least, not reliable as the primary form of evidence in a criminal case. The original trial was fair in the sense that the jurors properly relied on the  testimony given to convict Troy Davis of murder. If the same trial occurred today or a similar trial, it is likely that a murder conviction would, once again, be given. The issue is not whether the original trial was unfair, the issue is what should happen after a person is convicted in a fair trial when the witnesses whom were relied on as evidence for the conviction later recant their testimony. Perhaps the answer is never to rely primarily on witnesses for this very reason, but such an answer 1) exceeds the scope of the case and 2) will likely lead to a parade of horribles since it is rather unreasonable to always expect to find a gun or DNA evidence at a murder scene. Indeed, as the late Michael Jackson would say, such a supposition would be the antithesis of a smooth criminal.

Thunder and conflagration can be heard within the fog. Lightning normally precedes thunder, but here there is no lightning at all. Eureka! Out the fog and bathed in vitriol hatred chants ring and marching can be heard. Fists of fury dance with raging tongues across the sandy fog. They chant, ‘Kill him! Kill him! He’s had his chance for appeal, all the courts rejected it. Kill him. Kill him. Kill the cop killer! The courts all rejected his appeal. Kill him. Kill him!’ Their words sound like a brooding dark symphony played with a heavy tuba that scintillates to the ominous beat of the bass drum and the eerie high strings of a violin. Their words makes me shudder. Life is so precious; I could never be so bloodthirsty. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Well, this is not Rome. Therefore, one should not treat death as though he were watching a gladiator spectacle. If I were Caesar, I would give such a view a thumbs down. If ever one’s life had to be taken, I would hope that it was beyond certain that such person, to the very least, committed the crime alleged (indeed, I am not a proponent of the death penalty at all). Yet, how can there exist such zest for blood when 7 of 9 witnesses recant testimony; not one, not two, not three, but seven. Indeed, that would make me, at the very least, want to get to the bottom of why they recanted their testimony. I, more or less a pacifist, am opposed to an eye-for-an-eye, but, the recantation makes me question whether an eye was even taken at all. As stated before, how can one be so bloodthirsty in such a scenario? I agree that the loss of an innocent life is a terrible thing. Further, I agree that the death of the undercover cop was a tragedy. Moreover, I feel for his family to the extent that I know that it must have been of great sorrow. Nevertheless, I lack confidence in the killing of a man if 7 of 9 witnesses recanted their testimony of him.

Eureka! Eureka! Callooh Calllay! Cannons and thunder! The vitriol chants, once again ring, ‘The fact that the courts did not take his appeal is proof of guilt! Kill him Kill him! He had over 20 years to get it changed! Kill him kill him! The courts knew about the recanted testimony! Kill him kill him! They did nothing because it doesn’t change the fact that he’s guilty! Kill him kill him!’ I shudder once again at such bloodthirsty statements, goose bumps spread across my body. To these wreathing blood thirsty chanters, the court denying appeal combined with the plus 20 years of opportunity to do so equaled vindication to take Troy’s life. First of all, one does not always need to look at the court to see that something may truly be wrong. If, for example, the court said that black people were property and could never be citizens, does that mean the court is right? Indeed, the Supreme Court said that very exact thing in the case Dredd Scott. Yet, today, we view that decision as clearly wrong. One should not need a court to guide ones moral framework on every matter if at all. If a person is convicted based on the testimony of only witnesses, and, after conviction, the vast majority of the witnesses against him, for a variety of reasons, recant their testimony of him, then does it seem morally tantamount to put that man to death just as if the recantation had never happened at all? Now, it is true that recantations can be for a variety of reasons and these recantations came after these witnesses had already testified under oath. Nevertheless, shouldn’t the recanted statement at least be examined as to why it was recanted? Secondly, as illustrated by Dredd Scott, courts have and do make mistakes. The mistakes continued: Plessy , Ozawa, Korematsu, Bowers v. Hardwick, Buck v. Bell, the Slaughterhouse cases, Bush v. Gore, etc. Further, all the cases that I’ve mentioned are from the United States Supreme Court. If the United States Supreme Court makes mistakes, then I give even less credence to the state courts and appellate process of way-south-of-the-Mason-Dixon-line Georgia. It is already undoubtedly true that Georgia has had a history of racial injustice. Thus, if one places his or her infallible certainty on the appellate court process, then one must also realize that these courts, themselves, are not infallible nor always certain and do make mistakes. It took over 50 years for the United States Supreme Court to recognize the error it made in Plessy v. Ferguson. It was just as much a mistake 50 years later as it was the day it was adjudicated. The passage of time does not add vindication to decisions that themselves are erroneous. The Courts failing to grant Troy Davis’ appeal does not mean that the courts were correct in doing so.

The fog grew densest at its epicenter and the horse galloping created a sandstorm maelstrom as the lance reached for its target. Right before the galloping horse reached it last stride and right before the jouster extended his arm and right before the salivating lance finally reached its target, I saw an imperial court standing high above the fog as though they were the Grecian gods of mount Olympus. There were nine of them. With nine huffs, and nine puffs, they could have blown the fog away, but they did not. Exhibiting traces of callous indifference, they did and, moreover, said nothing at all. Like the gentle nymph that knows the meaning of life but remains quiet and does not share, the nine of this imperial court, with all the power to, said nothing. Of everything involving Troy Davis, I was most uncertain as to why the Supreme Court of the United States of America denied his last dying appeal of stay. Of everything involving Troy Davis, their action, or, better yet, lack thereof, left me with the strangest and most lingering of feelings. Why did the Supreme Court deny the appeal? Further, why did it not give its justification for doing so? The question ran through my mind for days. More amazingly, it seemed to never tire as it ran and ran. While some may say it is just another apocalyptic sign of the reality of Black America, I remained curious. Yes, I agree that racism still exists today, but this was more than just that. This was the life of another person after 7 of 9 witnesses recanted. Thus, why would the Supreme Court, the champion of liberty, deny the appeal? Perhaps, as briefly noted earlier, the Supreme Court saw that this case threatened the evidentiary justification of witness testimony. If witness testimony taken as evidence for conviction can be simply undone by recantation, then that would open up the possibility of numerous past, present, and future cases to, too, be undone. Witness testimony would then come to mean a banality of sorts. Perhaps, the Supreme Court felt that it needed to put its authoritative stamp behind the testimony of witnesses. Thus, the veracity of witness testimony as evidence for a murder conviction remains untainted even if it is later recanted. Perhaps by taking such action the Court hoped to strengthen witness testimony while contemporaneously preventing potential collusion to recant. Yet, a variety of other possible reasons exist too.

 Above all, I wish I knew why the Supreme Court ruled the way it did. It’s supposed to be the champion of liberty in the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Still, seven of nine witnesses recanted testimony. Troy Davis is dead now and the witnesses against him said he was not the killer. He is dead. Life is so precious, and his is now gone even though 7 of 9 of the witnesses against him recanted their testimony. It just seems so very very wrong to me; leaving a lingering feeling that I cannot make out. Troy Davis, I do not know if you were truly guilty or innocent, but, at least, I would have liked to have known why your witnesses recanted and the basis of the recantation as it pertained to your innocence. I feel the absence of such, which is what occurred, was a denial of liberty. Patrick Henry’s famous quote during the founding of America was, “Give me liberty, or give me death!” As Troy Davis lies dead, I do not think that this was what Patrick Henry had in mind.

The fog is now gone, so is the jouster, so is the lance, so is the thunder, vitriol hatred, and confusion, and the body is slowly being lost to the sands of time. Troy Davis and the cold imperial court are but an ever fading memory. A lingering feeling that I cannot describe persists in me. I still reminisce of the fog, the dense dense fog that surrounded Troy Davis.  The dense dense fog that left justice to injustice. 

Conscious Stream of Appreciation

Conscious Stream of Appreciation

Humanity is so wondrous and amazing.  At times, I catch myself mesmerized by things I once thought so trite.  For example, the ability of my fingers to flutter at not even a moment’s thought is fascinating to me at this very moment.  Likewise, the ability I have to inhale air into my lungs which fuels the life of my body, too, is amazing.  However, both these activities are more than simply amazing, they are also something that is not guaranteed.  I have full faculties intact in terms of my nervous system and sensory organs, but it is not as if that had to be the case. 

 Yet, I, and I assume others like myself, seldom pause to reflect on this amazing fact.  There are countless people in the world who cannot even move their eyelids and thereby, in a state of complete paralysis, remain blind to the world.  Yet, perhaps, it is I, and I assume many others, who are the ones actually blind to the world. As stated before, humanity is wondrous and amazing from head to toe, from poetry to prose, from luminous paintings to lucid sculptures, from hardworking business men to giddy indolent childish boys.  Yet, the one thing that amazes even me is our ability to complain and, thereby, not  truly appreciate what we have. 

Now, that is not to say that all complaining is bad.  For I believe, if there is no complaint, then there can be no advancement.  In order to advance, humanity must look back at what it does have and thereafter decide to want something beyond the current circumstance.  I suppose that somewhere in the infancy of our species to modern times that in-between what one had and what one wanted there likely was a complaint immersed in the middle. We as a species had to complain about being nomadic hunter-gathers in order to become semi-sedentary horticulturalists. We as a species had to complain about the toil of dragging wild game, heavy branches, and even ourselves through the coarse grounds, in order to inspire the ingenuity to create the lever, the pulley, and the wheel.  We as a species had to complain about individualized labor inefficiencies in order to create a compartmentalized efficacious society. Thus, perhaps 1) complaint simply is and always has been a human trait or 2) there is some sort of genetic evolutionary benefit to complaint that developed and still survives in our species today. 

With that said, I think, no I insist, that even amongst our complaints, we as a species must also be appreciative.   The truth is that most people, especially those in America, are extremely blessed.  Therefore, I find no fault with complaints about a fairly weak 5.2 earthquake in Virginia, and I find no fault with complaints about an Atlantic hurricane that extended along the east coast delaying flights from New York to the District of Columbia.  I, however, do find fault when those same people puff up their cheeks like Chicken Little and unyieldingly declare that “the world is coming to an end” or that such event is “a sign of the end times.”  Now, I am truly sorry that the earthquake in Virginia caused some people to stumble, cars to fumble, and a few buildings to crumble, but I do not mumble when I say that it did not cause one single death as to humans.   Furthermore, I am truly sorry that Hurricane Irene caused a few billion in damages and the loss of 45 American lives. Yet, one must put into context and take some sort of consideration of what transpired in Haiti, Japan, and Indonesia when viewing these events. 

How arrogant and insipidly foolish does it become to think that civilization as we know it is ending because of a little 5.2 earthquake in Virginia that killed not a single person when over 16,000 died in Japan,  over 100,000 died in Haiti, and over 200,000 in the Indonesia and its bordering countries from much larger and much more devastating earthquakes.  How arrogant and naïve it is to base the existence and continuance of the entire world, consisting of 196 countries,  off of one country, the United States of America.

          Now, I am not claiming that all complaints are that wild and outlandish as to involve the actual upheaval and destruction of world as we know it, but I am asking that we bring our complaints down to earth.  For example, I hear people complain about the recession.  Now, I believe the complaint is incredibly reasonable, but at least appreciate that this is a country where there exists actually hope to climb out of the slump and, even with the slump, the standard of living is still better than 99 percent of all other countries.   When I think of the burden I, and many others carry, I realize it pales in comparison to the burden faced by many others in this country whose burden, likewise, pales in comparison to many others in this world.

Yet, isn’t it such a striking dichotomy, and I base this off of life experiences, that the ones with the least amount seem to be amongst the most appreciative.  I’ve seen, personally, those with hardly any clothes to wear, without electricity, without clean water, without infrastructure, without access to proper medical care,  without the things that I have and have had my whole life, be more content and more appreciative of life than I am. Amongst whatever little things they have and the numerous things that they do not, they remained thankful and full of praise.  Further, I have seen documentaries, read news stories, and kept my ears open to the stories of countless others who remained incalcitrantly full of a high spirited positive outlook on life when it seemed like, based on their life, that they should be the first ones wreathing in dirt filled bitterness and insatiably full of grievances.  

I, for one, am beyond humbled by the example of life that they showed me.  Whenever I feel sad, lonely, stressed, or am experiencing other forms of discontent, I remind myself of the optimistic life that they live. If even one of them could remain appreciative when iniquity seemed to be the one and only thing that correlated with their existence, then why can’t I remain appreciative too when I face so much less. 

 As stated before, humanity is wondrous and amazing. Moreover, we as individuals only have once chance to experience the wonders and amazement of humanity on this planet.  Therefore, I urge that in our relatively short time on this planet that we recognize this, turn from our complaining ways, and become ambassadors and diplomats of the beauty of life by remaining appreciative in the good as well as the bad times.  Thus, although I advise you to take time and smell the roses, more importantly, I advise you to appreciate the wonderful fact that you even can.