No Stars by Benjamin Darras
My loss of freedom has taken many opportunities and experiences away form my life. If I was not in prison, I may have married and fathered children. I could have
stood, mouth agape, at the former mousy girl from the marching band, who was drop dead gorgeous when she showed up at the high school reunion. I could have lost a job along with everyone else during the economic crisis. While all my friends and family grew up and experience all the normal experiences of life, I did not. Losing freedom hurts.
There are some things I desperately miss, such as being with family
during holidays, girlfriends (and all that goes along with that), or simply
choosing what I would like to eat for lunch. I took it all for granted, and it was taken all away. There are countless other things I took for granted as well without even knowing they existed. For example, while locked in a climate controlled and sterile facility for over three years, I wished with all my heart I could walk on grass.I wanted to feel it prickle my feet.I wanted to be outside and feel wind on my face. I missed the hum of traffic and the smell―both good and bad―of the city. For a time it was all taken away, but some have been returned to me over the years. They will not be taken for granted.
But I haven't gotten to stars yet…
While walking back from the dining hall one clear summer evening, I realized
something else I had taken for granted.In prison there are no stars. Oh,
they're up in the sky, but they are hidden from view. It's the lights. Just as effective as an overcast sky, the orange tinted security lights deprive me of the awe inspiring night sky. On a good night, at the right time of year,you may be able to see a twinkle or two; but the billions of dancing, spiraling lights are shielded from view.
The house I grew up in as a small child was far beyond the city limits with its electric forest of lights. The stars were fantastic out there. My older brothers and I would gaze into the mysteries of the sky and swear we could see a spaceship sailing the universe. Once when one of us got a telescope for Christmas, we trained it at the moon to search for the American flag planted by the first visitors to the lunar surface so long ago. Once my oldest brother, Jeremy, terrified Malan and I by telling us the stars were actually flashlights. The aliens, he confessed,
were looking for him. He was an alien as well, and they wanted to take him back home. Of course I didn't believe him. Well, that's what I said out loud; but secretly I wondered if he'd be captured some day.
Later in life, as a teenager, I continued to stare up into the sky in awe of the
stars. The circumstances were much different than when I was a kid with my brothers. Replacing my brothers were my neo-hippy friends. At a park just outside of the city limits, we would smoke a joint, stare up at the night sky, and ponder the deep mysteries of the universe. Was there a God? Why are we alive? I wonder if that's a government satellite spying down on us? We felt deep and enlightened, but in actuality we were just high.
Now, as I look at the empty sky above prison, I realize losing freedom is much more than the inability to vote, have a family, or choose a meal. Sometimes you can lose the stars. Yet, I still have the moon and maybe Saturn at the right time of year, so I will be thankful. I will not take them for granted. I will cherish the few lights I have. You can never know if the department of corrections will invent a brighter light able to block out what remains.
While I still have my precious few stars, I will make the most out of them. Tonight I will stare out of the window at the moon and search for the flag as I did so long ago. I'll watch for that government satellite. Just in case, I'll keep an eye out for the aliens looking for my brother and tell them they were too late.
Prison took away my freedom. Prison took away my stars. However, prison is also the place I received true freedom when Jesus came into my life. True, the stars are still hiding from my view, but I've been left with a dear promise, "And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the
light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine them; and they will reign
forever and ever" (Revelation 22:5). There will always be at least
one star for me, and it's the only one that really matters.
stood, mouth agape, at the former mousy girl from the marching band, who was drop dead gorgeous when she showed up at the high school reunion. I could have lost a job along with everyone else during the economic crisis. While all my friends and family grew up and experience all the normal experiences of life, I did not. Losing freedom hurts.
There are some things I desperately miss, such as being with family
during holidays, girlfriends (and all that goes along with that), or simply
choosing what I would like to eat for lunch. I took it all for granted, and it was taken all away. There are countless other things I took for granted as well without even knowing they existed. For example, while locked in a climate controlled and sterile facility for over three years, I wished with all my heart I could walk on grass.I wanted to feel it prickle my feet.I wanted to be outside and feel wind on my face. I missed the hum of traffic and the smell―both good and bad―of the city. For a time it was all taken away, but some have been returned to me over the years. They will not be taken for granted.
But I haven't gotten to stars yet…
While walking back from the dining hall one clear summer evening, I realized
something else I had taken for granted.In prison there are no stars. Oh,
they're up in the sky, but they are hidden from view. It's the lights. Just as effective as an overcast sky, the orange tinted security lights deprive me of the awe inspiring night sky. On a good night, at the right time of year,you may be able to see a twinkle or two; but the billions of dancing, spiraling lights are shielded from view.
The house I grew up in as a small child was far beyond the city limits with its electric forest of lights. The stars were fantastic out there. My older brothers and I would gaze into the mysteries of the sky and swear we could see a spaceship sailing the universe. Once when one of us got a telescope for Christmas, we trained it at the moon to search for the American flag planted by the first visitors to the lunar surface so long ago. Once my oldest brother, Jeremy, terrified Malan and I by telling us the stars were actually flashlights. The aliens, he confessed,
were looking for him. He was an alien as well, and they wanted to take him back home. Of course I didn't believe him. Well, that's what I said out loud; but secretly I wondered if he'd be captured some day.
Later in life, as a teenager, I continued to stare up into the sky in awe of the
stars. The circumstances were much different than when I was a kid with my brothers. Replacing my brothers were my neo-hippy friends. At a park just outside of the city limits, we would smoke a joint, stare up at the night sky, and ponder the deep mysteries of the universe. Was there a God? Why are we alive? I wonder if that's a government satellite spying down on us? We felt deep and enlightened, but in actuality we were just high.
Now, as I look at the empty sky above prison, I realize losing freedom is much more than the inability to vote, have a family, or choose a meal. Sometimes you can lose the stars. Yet, I still have the moon and maybe Saturn at the right time of year, so I will be thankful. I will not take them for granted. I will cherish the few lights I have. You can never know if the department of corrections will invent a brighter light able to block out what remains.
While I still have my precious few stars, I will make the most out of them. Tonight I will stare out of the window at the moon and search for the flag as I did so long ago. I'll watch for that government satellite. Just in case, I'll keep an eye out for the aliens looking for my brother and tell them they were too late.
Prison took away my freedom. Prison took away my stars. However, prison is also the place I received true freedom when Jesus came into my life. True, the stars are still hiding from my view, but I've been left with a dear promise, "And there will no longer be any night; and they will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the
light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine them; and they will reign
forever and ever" (Revelation 22:5). There will always be at least
one star for me, and it's the only one that really matters.
posted by Barbara Buttel @ 10:57 AM
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