Dedicate a tre prezios* amic/ch* .... perchè il pensiero va spesso a loro, a volte addolcito dai ricordi e a volte amareggiato dal presente, ma sempre con molto affetto... aspettando con infinita impazienza il loro primo giorno di libertà...

Per ragioni che penso possano essere facilmente intuibili non specifico i loro nomi... anche se mi piacerebbe esplicitarli nella dedica... e, con questo, la dedico allora anche a tutt* le/i prigionier* che sanno cosa sia la libertà, e in particolare a quell* che ne sono stati privati perchè non si sono arresi ai giochi assassini dei "grandi", e che nella forza del loro lottare non hanno mai lasciato che il loro amore, la loro amicizia e il loro coraggio si affievolisse, pur nella durezza delle molte battaglie affrontate......

E allo stesso modo... la loro memoria non si affievolirà nel tempo...perchè noi la alimenteremo ogni giorno, anche se fa male...

 

 

 

Testo della canzone ‘Prison Trilogy’, conosciuta anche come ‘Billy Rose’ o ‘Three Stories’, di Joan Baez:

 

Billy Rose was a low rider, Billy Rose was a night fighter
Billy Rose knew trouble like the sound of his own name
Busted on a drunken charge
Driving someone else's car
The local midnight sheriff's claim to fame

In an Arizona jail there are some who tell the tale how
Billy fought the sergeant for some milk that he demanded
Knowing they'd remain the boss
Knowing he would pay the cost
They saw he was severely reprimanded

In the blackest cell on "A" Block
He hanged himself at dawn
With a note stuck to the bunk head
Don't mess with me, just take me home

Come and lay, help us lay
Young Billy down

Luna was a Mexican the law called an alien
For coming across the border with a baby and a wife
Though the clothes upon his back were wet
Still he thought that he could get
Some money and things to start a life

It hadn't been too very long when it seemed like everything went wrong
They didn't even have the time to find themselves a home
This foreigner, a brown-skin male
Thrown into a Texas jail
It left the wife and baby quite alone

He eased the pain inside him
With a needle in his arm
But the dope just crucified him
He died to no one's great alarm

Come and lay, help us lay
Young Luna down
And we're gonna raze, raze the prisons
To the ground

Kilowatt was an aging con of 65 who stood a chance to stay alive
And leave the joint and walk the streets again
As the time he was to leave drew near
He suffered all the joy and fear
Of leaving 35 years in the pen

And on the day of his release he was approached by the police
Who took him to the warden walking slowly by his side
The warden said "You won't remain here
But it seems a state retainer
Claims another 10 years of your life."

He stepped out in the Texas sunlight
The cops all stood around
Old Kilowatt ran 50 yards
Then threw himself down on the ground

They might as well just have laid
The old man down

And we're gonna raze, raze the prisons
To the ground
Help us raze, raze the prisons
To the ground