09 December 2011

dragon hears mumia.

 well it turns out the wizard wasn't heading their way, but he used his glittery beard magic to make a secret tunnel go poof under the forest, and they crossed the distance to the sea easily. the dragon had never seen surf before, and was amazed at how many crabs he could terrify by simply setting one furry foot beneath the waves. the lady felt a transdimensional peace she only ever felt at the ocean. finally the road weariness caught up with her and she fell into an unshakable sleep.

“here and there
in the barrios and the favelas,
                                                   among those who have least,
                                                   beat hearts of hope,
                                                   fly sparks of Overcoming... ” (1) 

murmured a very distant voice. the dragon's hirsute hearing devices perked up instantly. he knew this voice. it belonged to a journalist he once met, and if his canine senses weren't mistaken, the voice shot straight from Greene, Pennsylvania's Death Row.

using his uncanny powers of perception, dragon ascertained that it was indeed the voice of Mumia Abu-Jamal. sensing that Mumia had been released from his overhanging death sentence, dragon thought, "i can't believe it took 30 years for those humans to wake up and smell the cruel-and-unusual punishment. now if only they could notice the not guilty seeping out of that man's pores."

Mumia can't be silenced.
dragon could relate to cases of mistaken identity. he was after all, a fire-breathing dragon at heart despite his puppy-like externalities - a feeling he knew he shared with Mumia, who oozed innocence no matter what a jury had declared.(2)

"free all political prisoners," screeched the dragon, as the bluest ocean waves blocked the setting sun from his view.

(1) exerpt from Mumia Abu-Jamal, Death Blossoms: Reflections from a Prisoner of Conscience

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