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Shaka Senghor's life is one of contemplation.

Seeking refuge from an abusive childhood home, he ran headlong into the violent crack cocaine game of east Detroit. At 13, he found himself nearly beaten to death on a cold, tile bathroom. From there, he contemplated: "What kind of world do we live in when we allow this to happen to children?"

A few years later in March 1990, as precious seconds ticked without medical help, the bullet-ridden teen rode in his friend's car as it sped to the nearest hospital. He contemplated the many young men befallen by similar violence. By the time he was in an emergency room, he just wanted a hug. But again he'd find no refuge - "No one thought to offer me what is the most simple of human gestures."

He still contemplates the things he did - and more importantly didn't do - on one fateful night in 1991 as he walked away from a heated argument over drugs. He contemplates why he decided to turn around, brandishing the gun he'd use that night for murder.

He had 19 years in prison to wonder and repent. And it was there that he found refuge - first in the musings of Plato, Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X; later in his own writing.

When he was finally released, in 2010, the prison guards left him a parting gift: "They told me, 'we'll see you in six months.'"

He never made it back. And now he texts with Oprah.

On Wednesday, Senghor recounted his own story of redemption during University at Albany's Martin Luther King Jr. celebration.

In the years since being released, Senghor - who now teaches at University of Michigan and has done stints at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology's Media Lab - has made criminal justice reform the focal point of his life, writing multiple books - including a best-selling memoir - about how forgiveness, compassion and knowledge pulled him from the brink of darkness.

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