He made a terrible mistake. Oh no, not a saint. He is paying the price, a young adult in prison. Surrounded by windowless cement, bars, electric fences, watchful guards with guns, and others filled with rage and despair, he found his heart, forgiveness, and chose to be free. Years without a mark, unthinkable in such surroundings. He devoured every course offered and desires only to complete the price and then to be a good man, a good father and son. Because of his record he was moved to a less guarded prison. For the first time in years he stepped outside and felt grass beneath his feet. A tree on the grounds gifted her touch. And he stood outside in the night and saw yes, sweet mercy, there is a moon and stars. I am thirty years older and judged by society as the better citizen and person; he is my teacher and guiding North Star. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with responsibilities and mistakes I've made. I see only the walls that keep me from being who I know I could be. At such times, with grace, I touch the door handle and think of him. I can step outside the prisons I create.