I speak to you in Jesus' name, as Jesus speaks through me. The evil we do can't be blamed upon our destiny. I have walked through the valley of death row to the shore. I have stumbled through silvery water to my Savior, my Salvador. It took me four years to learn I was in prison, not in church. And two more to begin the book of my soul's search. Time is an ocean of endless tears. A wild boy from the streets of El Barrio, the orphan from the hills of Mayaguez. And when I wrote my story, the words flew from the page. And my soul in solitary escaped its iron cage. Time is an ocean of endless tears. Mama, I got your letter today. The next time that you write, I'll be transferred far away. I'm leaving Green Haven's towers of stone where the Latin population will soon be minus one. Time is an ocean of endless tears. I know how hard it's been for you these many years. You say the Aginaldo makes you dream of home where once we strolled the beach at El Maletón. Go back, don't you worry, I am your grown-up son. The politics of prison are a mirror of the street. The poor endure oppression, the police control the state. Correctional facility, that's what they call this place. But look around and you will see the politics of race. A forest and a prison where the snow guards are white. If you want to keep your sanity, you'll teach yourself to write. You were a child of sixteen with a twelve-year-old mind. You came here numb and battered by the streets I left behind. I'll take the evil in me and turn it into good. Though all your institutions never thought I could. So now I'll turn to say goodbye. I'll keep your image in my eye. I turn around to say goodbye. I'll keep your image with me till the day I die. Time is an ocean of endless tears. www.mooji.org