From Damien

An entry from Death row in Arkansas, our dear friend Damien Echols:

Our windows here are these tiny slits from which you can’t see much of anything. Last night I was lying on my bunk when I noticed there was a little more light in here than usual. I started looking out the window, trying to see what the source of the light was. By stooping down and cutting my eyes upward I discovered a full moon. I stayed in that position for awhile, just looking at it. A huge feeling welled up in my chest, like I wanted to moan and cry, just because it was so immense. I could feel what it would be like to be in the country again, walking across the grass under that moon when the world seems to be silent. I wanted to be out there so badly that it was hurting me. It was kind of that sense of loss you have when someone dies. You want to sink to your knees and keep saying “No, no, no, no,” as if that could somehow change things. It was so beautiful, remembering, but still so painful. That’s exactly the kinds of things I need, because it stokes the fire in me that wants freedom. It strengthens my will. You’d be amazed at how easy it is to fall into a pattern in this place, to sink into a funk in which you don’t even think of being out again. That scares me. Perhaps it is just savage superstition, but I always feel like if I don’t want out badly enough, then I won’t ever get out. After, 11 years sometimes it is hard to remember what it was even like. What happens when you can’t remember anything that it was even like. What happens when you can’t remember anything but hell?

One thought on “From Damien

  1. That is so sad. Damien is such an expressive writer. I would love for him to continue his writings. I first started reading his stuff on the WM3 website years ago. I enjoy everything he writes tremendously.

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