Eric Volz Poem

I wrote this poem a few months ago after a letter from Eric Volz was released as a Myspace bulletin. I took quotes of Eric's and responded to them.

The Eric Volz Tragedy: As Observed From 2,855.8 Miles Away

“I live in my head.”

No you don’t, Eric; you live in La Modelo.
You live in steel and grime, horror and danger.
You live in barred freedom, a shrieking silence—
revelatory darkness that blinds the eyes of sanity.
You live tucked away in a neat corner of foreign affairs.
And you are not alone.

Developmental projects.
Concern for future generations.
Sustainability.
Profitability.
Rape?
Murder?

“The best analogy I have come across for being locked up here is that it's like being buried alive.”

There are numerous ways to suffocate
when the oxygen of autonomy is smothered.
Your body copes with sleep.
And sleep is a science—
in this case, a merciful escape from tragedy.
The gracious oasis of God in a barren scene.


“My spirits rise and fall.”

Because injustice billows!
The guilty, free. The innocent, jailed.
Racism abounds, even convicts.
And you are left to be tossed by the sea
of public belief and skepticism—
and hatred. For we are creatures of hate.

“I send my deepest and purest love to every person that reads these lines.”

Perhaps, you do live apart from La Modelo.
To be treated with such contempt by the country
that you call home, by the mother of your
former lover. And yet to express such compassion.
You inhabit another place.

Your soul is a hospital for the wounded.