One of the reasons we went to San Fran was because Nick really wanted to see Alcatraz. This old prison is only a short mile from shore and as we piled on the shuttle boat, I was amazed at the volume of people just like us wanting to see this old place of haunting stories. It was a spectacular sunny day and as we meandered in the prison hearing stories of those who had lived or worked here. I was struck by the smallness of the cells and the lingering hopelessness of being in this prison. The most desired cells to find yourself were the ones facing these windows. As I looked up, I realized why...sunlight was streaming into an otherwise dark and gloomy hallway, bars on the windows, but sunlight nevertheless.
It has been a rainy spring here and gloomy. We have had a few sunny days but not a string of them. San Fran is known for its fog, and I am sure on this island in the Bay, fog was constant company. Wet, dank, dark , and cold were the four other tyrants of this prison. When the sun comes out here...it is as if we sigh collectively...I can imagine those men did the same when the sun came streaming in those high and barred windows.
We are all prisoners of something...fears, the unknown. There are walls we ourselves have built that keep us from reaching out, trusting...being free.
I stood in the pool of sun collecting at the bottom of this barred window.
I was grateful.
He shines into all our misery...glimpses at times, and at times through the bars of our fears.
He shines nonetheless.
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