Being saved

Jailers can’t prevent a poet, exiled, imprisoned, and denied, from whispering behind the pillars, or from stealing the stub of a pencil to write on the cold stones. How did the village survive? It wasn’t blessings of the church or demands of the landowners but the old woman outside the village. Debauchery was a friend of hers, and she didn’t save everyone, but she stubbornly did what she could, even though they weren’t her own. Suffering itself isn’t enough. Stories of fellow captives become testaments of honor, proof of unquenchable spirit, and condemnation of cold fate.