Mt Eden Prison Blues

Curious, perhaps, but flattered too, to know
you read my words. Whether ‘you’ is one or
two (or more) I’ll never know – please rest
assured, be confident of that. I traced your

access point with Google Maps, anonymity
intact except I recognise the four grey walls
surrounding you. As a younger man I passed
that edifice aware of what it was, shared a

joke with brethren who confused the prison
for a school, a difference marginal in minds
that grasped a notion of the open air as
freedom eulogised; Mt Eden Prison guys,

is not a school – 1962, we were such callow
youths. Did we spare a thought for those
who were inside? Clearly not, just kept
our minds on girls and beer, real pursuits,

yet time provides a catalyst for pensive
thought, and sympathies abide. I care you
read my words, I care for what you think
and where your energies will be directed

when your freedom is returned; that will
be a fête to consequence. You’ve tuned
my thoughts before I’ve honoured yours,
when freed let’s share a glass of wine...
© 8 July 2007, I.D. Carswell