The silhouette of his shadow which is cast upon the dirty concrete
floor has finally become his only true trusted yard companion yet even
then his cautionary ways still cause him to entertain a certain shadow
of a doubt. Wondering if he can afford to exhale with a strong sense of
content.
Is it safe to simply assume that it’s a solidified fact that his
shadow will always have his back? Or is that simply psychological
lore?
If solitary forms of confinement nothing more than a plotted plan to
lure, bait and seek out the weak.
If the only true permanent fact found in the parable of “anything
behind the back will eventually try to attack.”
If that should
be the case, then how does one strategically wage an effective battle
against his own damn shadow?
Is this a simple reflection of a parable and rhyme of a true reclusive
mind or is it actually a classic example of a chicken shit battle of a
man scared of his own damn shadow?
Although I believe this poem is somewhat entertaining, I simply used it
as a vehicle to express something much deeper. That would be the
psychological toll that it takes on one’s mind when they are subjected
to years of solitary confinement. Especially after being entwined one
way or another in continuous acts of bloody violence all in the spirit
of survival.
Sometimes trying to preserve one’s way of life. Other times defending
one’s belief system. Or simply trying to stay alive to push forward and
fight another day.
Adding to the mix and price of the psychological toll is the back
stabbing acts of betrayal by those you once cared for, trusted, and in
many ways still love. Amongst many other psychological issues it becomes
extremely hard to know who and when to trust as your actual life and
freedom can depend on it.
The stakes are high and the toll is heavy, so paranoia can and does run
deep and rapid.
