Greg Michael was a federal prisoner in Cumberland, Maryland for over 11 years. I spent six months with him while serving a sentence for an act of civil disobedience. He sought me out right away – in order to better connect with struggles for justice outside those prison walls, and to make sure I was taken care of while locked-up. We became friends quickly - he was my yoga instructor and he taught me how to play the Appalachian dulcimer. He was released over a year ago, and we stayed in touch and dreamed revolution together. He even made it to my hometown a couple of times, in part to raise awareness of his prison experience. He died this past October of a heart attack; because of his incredibly healthy lifestyle I suspect he died after suffering the stress and toxicity of prison (which is common after spending years behind bars).
One day before my short sentence ended he told me that my time in prison was “like having my head held underwater, and then being let up right before passing out.” Then he added, “for the rest of us locked-up for years it’s like being held under water and having to figure out how to survive without oxygen.” He did survive though, and millions of other prisoners are doing the same; I only hope that we can learn as much from them as I learned from Greg. Right now that’s the best way that I know to honor his life and death.
These are some of his words.
-Patrick (November 15, 2006)
1/7/04
I just got a few anarchist zines from the editor of Fifth Estate in Tenn. Full of news of protests and analysis of race. It’s like getting oxygen. Remember in “Storming Heaven” when the roof collapsed on the mineshaft trapping a group of miners, and there was a little crack that let in fresh air, but it wasn’t enough to keep them all alive? They took turns getting a few breaths, and tried not to move or talk so they would use less oxygen. Which is all they knew to do as they waited for rescue. I think a lot of people are trapped like that in different forms.
4/11/04
My new release date is St. Patty’s Day, 2005. 11 months to go and out to the half-way house. I’m counting months instead of years now. I’m trying to maintain the practices most essential to my personal growth while experiencing a time crunch due to the exceedingly long time I have to sit on my ass and listen to talk, talk, and more talk. That’s programming Babylon style. [Note: when Greg references “programming” he’s writing about the 9-month drug program that some federal prisoners can go through in order to reduce one’s sentence. It is mostly window-dressing for the institution, led by guards not counselors, and extremely humiliating for the prisoners.]
10/24/04
I probably told you that I’ve been banned from publishing while I’m in here. I could’ve been kicked out of the program and lost the year off. I’m thinking of writing using an A.K.A. for now. Bastards want people to live as puppets. Unfortunately they are successful much of the time. Cut the strings.
1/19/05
How are you brother? It seems like a year since I’ve seen you. I’ve been reading The Global Report, a newsweekly out of Asheville, N.C. Pretty good paper. I knew the neo-fascist crew in power wasn’t going to give it up in an election, and they didn’t. Calls to mind the old saying, if voting really changed anything, they’d make it illegal.
“Pledge of Allegiance”
We have been locked down
In their damn prison system
People, we won’t take much more
Of this oppression
We are working on new forms
Of revolution
I am the great-grandson
Of an American revolutionary
Let’s open our perception
So that we can find each other
Through the walls
Of Babylon’s deception
They capture me and throw me
Into a dark prison
Where I suffer
But love gives me a vision
Now I offer
I am the great-grandson
Of an Appalachian revolutionary
I pledge my allegiance
To this land and to the people
Never will I fight for a rag
Or a god in a steeple
Never will I give up my freedom
And fight for a symbol
And when I die let the mountains
Cover me just like my great-grandmother’s
Quilt
(Sung w/music of the Appalachian dulcimer)
It’s a freezing cold crystal clear full moon night tonight. Let’s keep
diggin’ those bones…
-Greg Michael
Resources/Organizations:
www.signalfirepress.org/publications/pamphlets/BehindBars.pdf
www.criticalresistance.org
www.rihd.org