I saw my sister today
On the 3rd floor of a prison
Caged in for all the world to see
She didn't recognize me
But I saw her
Ticking through time
Piecing together the puzzle
Puzzled at her circumstances
Pacing and Walking and Talking and Living
If living's what you call it
Oh, it tore my soul apart
Stomped my heart to pieces
Drained me dry and left me hanging
Yep, I saw my sister today
Perspective on the Poem: This poem was written after I saw the Juvenile range at the prison I work at. Of all the things I have seen in that prison, this was the only thing that brought me to the brink of tears. I have a sister the age of one of girls in that wing and tore me apart to see them locked up the way they are. Since they are minors, they are separated from the rest of the general population by law, so they only get to speak to each other ( there's only 3 or 4 of them), their teacher and the guards.
Monday, October 13, 2014
No One Deserves to Be Murdered
So I asked
Did the people you killed deserve it ?
Her reply . . .
"No one deserves to be murdered"
"The stone of violence ripples to the shore and affects everybody"
A hint of empathy through stone/
Like a rose through concrete
Empathy but not remorse
Reflection not regret
Her murders were her Art
And she could regret her masterpiece
Bloodstained bodies torn by violence
Her canvas to kill a man
Her one great secret is the number in her head
Dangerous , Predator
Person, Human
Akin to Cain
The darker side of God's Image
Perspective on the Poem: This inmate challenges me intellectually every time I speak with her. She reminds me that people are complicated and that no person is just one thing. She may be a murdered and she may be serving a life sentence but she is still a human, a person and as much as we may not like to admit it, she too is made in God's image. The parts in quotations are her words exactly as they came from her mouth, I asked her permission to quote her.
Did the people you killed deserve it ?
Her reply . . .
"No one deserves to be murdered"
"The stone of violence ripples to the shore and affects everybody"
A hint of empathy through stone/
Like a rose through concrete
Empathy but not remorse
Reflection not regret
Her murders were her Art
And she could regret her masterpiece
Bloodstained bodies torn by violence
Her canvas to kill a man
Her one great secret is the number in her head
Dangerous , Predator
Person, Human
Akin to Cain
The darker side of God's Image
Perspective on the Poem: This inmate challenges me intellectually every time I speak with her. She reminds me that people are complicated and that no person is just one thing. She may be a murdered and she may be serving a life sentence but she is still a human, a person and as much as we may not like to admit it, she too is made in God's image. The parts in quotations are her words exactly as they came from her mouth, I asked her permission to quote her.
Lost It
She' lost it
And I don't even know if she cares to look for it
Or where to look if she got the urge
Seek and Ye shall find they say
But her search is filled by clutter
Questions and more Questions
Tempered by a flood of uselessness
Pathetic answers attempting to dampen a fire filled soul
Anger intended to intimidate
Failing at her feet
MONSTER
That's what we would call her
Labeling her indiscretions as malicious
Heinous crimes
Arms filled with signs of self mutilation
Sitting adjacent Angels and Death
As they flip the pages of this open book
Perspective on the Poem:
This poem along with others are inspired by interactions with one of my favorite women at the prison. She always spikes my interest because her crimes would lead most to think that she is un-empathetic and a monster. I find, that she is just a person, who seen so much dark in the world, that she has a hard time believing that light exists anymore.
And I don't even know if she cares to look for it
Or where to look if she got the urge
Seek and Ye shall find they say
But her search is filled by clutter
Questions and more Questions
Tempered by a flood of uselessness
Pathetic answers attempting to dampen a fire filled soul
Anger intended to intimidate
Failing at her feet
MONSTER
That's what we would call her
Labeling her indiscretions as malicious
Heinous crimes
Arms filled with signs of self mutilation
Sitting adjacent Angels and Death
As they flip the pages of this open book
Perspective on the Poem:
This poem along with others are inspired by interactions with one of my favorite women at the prison. She always spikes my interest because her crimes would lead most to think that she is un-empathetic and a monster. I find, that she is just a person, who seen so much dark in the world, that she has a hard time believing that light exists anymore.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Freedom
They had face-paint and popcorn and cotton candy
They even had their kids
But of all the things they had this day
What they did not have was freedom.
Perspective on the Poem:
This was inspired by a fall festival even at the prison where I intern as a Chaplain a few hours a week. The atmosphere was so beautiful. Watching the women with their kids, seeing the kids play with their parents and each other. It was amazing to see that so many families were still intact despite the lady's prison sentences. And then as I left the prison and walked out of the security gates, it struck me: At this moment these women probable have everything they truly want; except freedom.
They even had their kids
But of all the things they had this day
What they did not have was freedom.
Perspective on the Poem:
This was inspired by a fall festival even at the prison where I intern as a Chaplain a few hours a week. The atmosphere was so beautiful. Watching the women with their kids, seeing the kids play with their parents and each other. It was amazing to see that so many families were still intact despite the lady's prison sentences. And then as I left the prison and walked out of the security gates, it struck me: At this moment these women probable have everything they truly want; except freedom.
Broken Picture/ Shattered Image
Broken picture
Shattered image
She can see the light
But can she see her life in it?
Bad luck
Good luck
Could have had a life sentence
Little architects and engineers in her image
Working mom
Working hard
American dream
Had a job and a car
Maybe worked a little too hard
Life shattered in the night
Like the windows in the car
Meant well
Did bad
10 years behind bars.
Perspective on the Poem:
This poem was written after a conversation with an inmate who was only 27 years old. Her case inspired me to write because it gave me a certain sense of frustration with our prison system. This lady was a full time mother, working a full time job, while attending school full time at a University. One night on her way to work, she fell asleep and crashed into a car, killing two people. I was frustrated because she her crime had no malice. Even the victims families didn't want her to go to prison because they understood it was an accident, one that could happen to any one of us. Still the prosecutor slammed her with a ten year sentence.
Shattered image
She can see the light
But can she see her life in it?
Bad luck
Good luck
Could have had a life sentence
Little architects and engineers in her image
Working mom
Working hard
American dream
Had a job and a car
Maybe worked a little too hard
Life shattered in the night
Like the windows in the car
Meant well
Did bad
10 years behind bars.
Perspective on the Poem:
This poem was written after a conversation with an inmate who was only 27 years old. Her case inspired me to write because it gave me a certain sense of frustration with our prison system. This lady was a full time mother, working a full time job, while attending school full time at a University. One night on her way to work, she fell asleep and crashed into a car, killing two people. I was frustrated because she her crime had no malice. Even the victims families didn't want her to go to prison because they understood it was an accident, one that could happen to any one of us. Still the prosecutor slammed her with a ten year sentence.
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