Jeffrey Free Luers - August 2, 2008 Prison Dispatch

This is my art. It isn't pretty. It isn't great. But, when I write I can channel the raw emotions of my soul. I give them life. Sometimes I give them escape. I think this is what it must be like to keep a journal; something I have never done.

These dispatches, however, serve as a chronicle of my life in prison. The fiery rants, the passionate pleas, the sadness, joy, and heartache.

Over the years these writings have served as a window into my life. I did not begin them with that intent. They started as a way to demonstrate to the world and myself that no cage could break my spirit. However, they have become so much more.

Through these dispatches, you the audience have gotten a feel for what it is like to be a political prisoner. Not the celebrity that so often accompanies those of us locked up for direct action, but the deep heartfelt sorrow that is being locked up for an act of protest.

The sacrifice for a principle. This noble cause grows exponential each year. Had anyone asked what I thought prison would be like when I was 21 my answer would have been horribly lacking.

Of course, with increased hardship comes increased strength and determination: the will and desire to see this through to the end. My heart breaks again and again and again, however, my chin never drops and my strength seldom falters.

Is this what it means to be a hero? According to some, I suppose. Though personally I think it is solely because I am stubborn and incorrigible.

I have spent years daydreaming about my release. Years. Never did I actually believe I would be making release plans. Yet, recently a friend put it in very real perspective. She told me she was looking at her calendar and realized my release date was on there. Granted, hers is a two year calendar. Nevertheless, the day is that close: 16 months, 13 days as of this writing (but who's counting?).

Years of daydreaming are on the verge of coming true. Well, that's not quite true. That's the problem with dreams, seldom do they turn out quite the way we imagine.

It is hard when dreams fall short. It happens to us all. It is the nature of dreaming, I suppose. Still, it seems especially cruel when years of sustained hope fade. Yeah, I'm quite guilty of holding on to some of the romanticism I constantly complain about. It is no real secret I'm a hopeless romantic.

In the dream she is always there at the gate waiting. It is an awkward but joy filled moment. It's just her. Besides, I'm not into crowds and I'm not interested in a hero's homecoming. I just want to go home to her.

It isn't a typical get out of prison dream. The first stop isn't some seedy motel. There's no sex involved, actually my dream is much more heartfelt. I just want her to be there.

Now, I'd be a liar if I said it has always been the same dream, or the same women in the dream for that matter. Sadly, I am not a stranger to heartbreak or being dumped.

But, this dream was unique (there were seedy motels in the others). This dream has only ever featured one woman. She is the woman I have imagined going home to for over 3 years.

I have known her for more than 9 years. It hasn't always been good. There were times when I didn't like her. Moments I kick myself over now (moments she has occasionally kicked me over as well).

However, the good times were great times. The way we played, the smile she reserved just for me, the gentle and peaceful expression on her face when she slept in my arms. And oh how we lit up the visiting room. When your life is lived for a visiting room whether from the inside or out you'll truly understand the importance of that last part.

Alas, some dreams just can't be held on to and the harder you try the more it slips from your grasp. Sometimes as difficult and painful as it is, you have to just let go and hope for the best. I don't like that, though I do understand it.

You've probably figured out by now that I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing it for her. It is rather cliche, I know, like the musician who writes about his broken heart. I hope you will forgive me for this indulgence I think that you will. Something tells me there is a hopeless romantic in all of us and that perhaps my closest friends are not the only ones who can smile with that knowledge.

Some things should be immortalized. Particularly, those events that leave us better people. This experience, these last years shared with her, has been that for me.

So, to you my dear friend, while it appears our paths part ways here, I look forward to a time when they again bring us together. Thank you for sharing this part of the journey with me.

- Jeffrey Free Luers

http://www.freejeffluers.org



Write to Jeff
Jeffrey Luers # 13797671
CRCI
9111 NE Sunderland Ave
Portland, OR 97211-1708

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