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  • Sitting in the waiting room at the County Jail I build a wall of Peace around me.
    Brick by brick of "OM Shanti", protecting me from the desperate and sad energy of the fellow visitors.
    Elderly people holding each other up, young moms with dirty kids, girls with too much make-up and skimpy clothes. We all arrive here to visit our Prisoners.

    Finally we walk through long concrete halls to numbered rooms.
    We have to put our mouths right up to the glass to hear each others forced cheerful chatter.
    My son looks thin. 20 pounds he says, gone from his slight frame. He has dark circles under his eyes from sleeping without a pillow, in a place where people shout and cry all night, and the lights are left on, in an otherwise dark world.
    He is happy. Encouraged, ready to get on with his life after he gets out. No more heroin, his partner in crime for 10 years.
    He believes it. I believe him.

    As I leave I can sense the dark cloud that follows me, just beyond my sight.
    I "OM Shanti" all the way home.
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