At a maximum security prison in Connecticut,
I taught a class on using non violence to 30 inmates.
After the introductions,
We divided into two circles:
the inner one to speak
the outer one to listen.
No gestures were allowed,
and no matter what the person
on the inside said,
I explained,
Do not look away
and do not speak.
What are we supposed to talk about? one of them asked
Tell about a happy, childhood memory.
They nodded nervously, shuffled back into their chairs
I took a seat before a short, solid fellow
with brown hair, powerful hands, and tattoos lacing his arms
I'm Simon, he said. I nodded,
pressed the stopwatch
and inner circle all began to speak.
Simon, however, shook his head:
I have no happy memories from when I was a kid.
And for what was left of those
two unbearable minutes
we stared into each other's eyes.
For two minutes his look was so hard.
I felt the tick of the second hand
Like a hammer on my heart.
In the end he shamed me into looking away.
I pretended it was the watch,
but the truth is the watch was only to remind myself
of all that remains on the outside.
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