2) The Flight

The plane ride to California depressed the shit out of me.

I realized then that it would be ten years before I flew on a plane again.
Ten years before I did anything I truly enjoyed.
Ten years before I was free.

After we landed, they hustled us onto a fortified bus like livestock. Chains wrapped around my wrists, waist, and ankles. I couldn’t help but think about the mini-series ROOTS. That scene where they packed us up and stripped us of everything but breath.

There were so many Black and Brown faces on that bus, I felt embarrassed — not just for myself, but for my people.

What the fuck are we doing to ourselves, Black people?

Welcome to the Pen

As we pulled up to Lompoc Federal Penitentiary, the sun retreated behind a cluster of clouds like it didn’t want to witness what was coming.

The building was massive. Cold.
It had that energy — like something out of a nightmare.
If it had a drawbridge, I would’ve fully expected Skeletor to step out and welcome us.

The bus grew silent. No one had to tell us we were entering hell — the walls said it loud enough.

Fear in the Air

I am scared, but I have promised myself that I will not let it show.