FCN: The Wall

A growing collection of poetry and prose by family and friends of prisoners.

How about rewarding those children of imates that work hard in school, make A's and want to have a future and a career. Mothers like myself that are out working hard everyday to provide these children with a good home, food and education often cannot afford the high cost of college educations. We make enough money to support the children and raise them and are denied additonal goverment financial aide because we make just a little too much to qualify for any assistance but do not make enough to to be able to pay for their college educations. Reward the children that are going the extra mile to be better and to have a better life.

Also, Many of the single working mothers of children of imates are having to work 10-12 hours a day to make things happen for their children. We do not have the additional time or energy to transport these children to the programs that are established to help them. Many of us are on our own without extended family close by to help. Many of these children are embarrassed, they do not want their pastors or youth leader to know where "daddy" is. They want to be respected in the community. In small town Texas it is not something you share with others, you them become labled and not accepted.

Three-year old Alexie rocks when she's happy, rocks when she's sad, rocks during the day, rocks at night. Alexie's daddy was taken away on February 5, 2001. He was her very special person. The one who cared for her the most. She hasn't seen him outside of mesh screen since then. The last chance she had, her grandparents drove her and her sister Brittany for 5 hours to see her daddy before he was sentenced to 6 years in prison and when they arrived, could not see him, because someone else caused trouble in the jail and he was locked down. The judge wouldn't allow them in court so grandpa had to sit out in the car with them, while he was sentenced for a crime he didn't commit, but was forced to plea bargain for. The last time she saw more than his face, he was in court in shackles and she saw him through a glass door. She screamed for 3 hours because she wasn't allowed to go hug him and feel his arms around her.

Alexie will survive, maybe. She will continue to grow and learn, but the pain will always be there. Six years without his hugs and kisses. Six years without feeling safe. And so Alexie rocks and rocks and rocks and waits.

- Irene Peters, September 2001

This Late Day in March

The sky is mean-gray, razor-wire gray
Prison gray, against the crest of the hill
Winter's starvation hangs on, draws down old sorrow,
Defeats me

The grass, new-green, tears-to-my-eye green,
Neon green against the crest of the hill
Springs up, comes on, arises in triumph so tender
Hope breaks my heart:

This late day in March
I visit,
I touch your hand
With one finger, tenderly
Trace the plumb colored vein up your arm
Kiss your shoulder
Breathe your clean warmth into me
See my heart's home in your eyes and
Once more spring green and naked, we
Bathe in pooled memory
A few simple hours

Once more grass green and tender, we
Lie against the crest of the hill
Beneath a razor-wire sky

- Anonymous, April 2001

Even though we couldn't get ourselves together enough to make our relationship last, I still love you for being a part of bringing the greatest gift into my life, our beautiful daughter, Taylor. Without you, there wouldn't be her and that I wouldn't change for the world. And for that I thank you.

Even though I am the one who has been able to enjoy her in my life more than you, because of your disiese of addiction that has sent you away to prison, you will still have your chance to enjoy the rest of life when get out.

Even though it has been 3 long years since you have been able to hold her in your arms and rock her to sleep, she still longs for you.since your absence, i have done nothing except reasure her that you love and miss her very much. I have never bad mouthed you in any way, only positive thoughts I have put in her mind.I have kept you alive in her heart, mind and soul. Because of this, you are a perfect being in young eyes. She has been looking forward to the day you come home so she can finally make all of her dreams with you become a reality. I want to remind you, that this little girl loves you more than life itself. She has been crossing out each day that passes on her calendar that hangs in her room, counting the days when you'll be home.

You have been given "out" dates several times now since about Oct. of last year and to our disapointment, something happend in there to add more time. There have been so many times that our daughter has had her hopes up about you coming on a specific date, and then let down by date change. I try to tell her that everything will be o.k. and that her daddy still loves her and will see her as soon as he can, but she still can't help the tears stream down her face. I feel so bad about this, I really feel her pain.

Today is March 30th, you were supposed to be home. You're not, still there with another 115, which will keep you there for more time. Taylor has yet to notice that the day has nearly past and she is not in your arms. I am holding off on telling her the news, until I figure out the best way to explain. I fear that all of this is damaging to her and I am now unsure of how to go about all of this in the best interest of her? I'm sure one day she will understand everything, I'm just worried about today, since she's only 5.

I hope you will be strong enough to hold on to eveything you have, you may think that that's not much, but I am here to tell you, "she" should be a lot, to help you get yourself out of there safe and sound. I'm begging you, if you can't do it for yourself, do it for our beautiful angel, she deserves it!

You are a good person with a big heart. Please don't let yourself go to waste! I have faith in you! I believe in you, please believe in yourself no matter what happens!

Love, Jennifer, your daughter's mother.

- This letter is for Joshua, Corcoran State Prison, Corcoran, Ca. March 30th 2001

what should i do
where do i go
so many years go by
i'm maturing so very well
you were gone when i was 13
and now i'm almost 18
no one speaks of you
only i can remember
my dad, i miss you
it's so hard to relate
a teen that is troubled
and can't open the gate
to the answers i need
i was left in the dark
i was put in the corner
i can't live without knowing
why your crime was apart
of my future and my knowing
that i might never see the man
who calls me daughter.

It's hard to imagine how someone can be trapped outside.

I can't belive that your there.
When I hear your voice on the phone it just sounds reminicent of someone that
you used to be
The screaming in the background, scares me.
You tell me that you love me and that you don't want me to cry
but how can I possibly hold all of these tears inside.
I wont leave you alone.
I love you with all of my heart.
Be strong, and keep a part of you for me.

I knew the moment that I met him
I know to this day
This wouldn't be easy
It seems to hurt more everyday

The tears keep falling
and my heart is filled with doubt
Couldn't there have been an easier way out.

They said his trial would be fair
"fair to who"
It's not fair to me
I'm trapped outside
in this world by myself
and with this baby inside me
I can't do this myself!

I need to feel his touch
His bitersweet embrace
When he sees his baby girl
There will be a smile on his face.

Only for a moment till the gaurds
take her away

I didnt think that I'd ever live to see this day.

When his daughter is born
and she looks up at me
I hope she sees her fathers eyes
because he still lives inside me

Four more years till his safe
in our bed,
Four more years till I can hold him
Four more years till I can breathe.

I love you and miss you
See you soon

- Anonymous, February 2001

I used to write poetry
But haven't lately
Who would I show it to...
About him in prison
About shame, About waiting
About loving someone
Anyway

- Anonymous, January 2001

Time Will Allow

A tear, or two, or three, or more
Questioning life, what's in store?
Lonesome world, desperate need,
Broken heart, alone indeed.

Sometimes life seems out of reach,
No room to move, nor light to seek.
Love of life can slip away
So far beyond, we're led astray.

Sometimes loving life is hard,
Feel trapped in a cave in the dark so far,
So far from comfort, love, and hope,
And lost in space, no way to cope.

But somehow light we always find
To carry us on in heart and mind,
No telling when, no telling how,
Just hold on tight, time will allow.

Who would have ever thought my hands would strike these keys to speak of
sorrows such as this. there is seldom a place of refuge or a place for
compassion in a world that is ignorant to an experience such as this. we
that come hear to read, those of us that have in spirit gone to prison
ourselves, serve time in a place so intimately our own for few can comprehend
the depth of our loss. though no one has died, we mourn, though no person
has been laid to rest the fact of the matter is the person we once knew has
left us forever and will never be the same - neither will we.

who can know what it is like to manage a face of courage when inside your
heart is screaming with fear and frustration? and how can any understand the
prejudice that we encounter when others are appalled at the notion that we
would associate ourselves with such degenerates. they do not know. they do
not know this journey that we share as the casualties to the varying
scenerios that brought our loved ones to incarceration. and oddly enough
having once sat in that seat of innocent ignorance and condecendence what
they really do not know,is that it can happen to anyone, even them.

until it comes to your door, you can not imagine or remotely fathom the
capacity this beast of agony has to torment your life - and though we have
come here to share and expose to each other our commonalities in pain - each
one of us silently cries specific tears that only God can understand. this
we know, this we live and may God be with anybody who ever reads this and may
He richly console you in your loss. May His promise of His peace that
surpassses all understanding be with you.

He is only one of many
His days are filled with dread
Heart beating, eyes staring
but at least, he is not dead.

His crime is addiction
Life no longer his own
Many livess are touched
by the seeds that he has sown.

His baby daughter Taylor
will turn five very soon
He thought he would be there for that
Not locked in a little room.

The Prison had other ideas
he was found guilty without a trial.
December 22nd he was to be set free
Three more months in exhile.
It matters not that he didn't do
what they accused him of
There was no one to stand up for him
His pain is loss of love
His pain was trusting someone
who cared more about himself
For trusting another inmate
Joshua's Freedom sits on a shelf.

As his Mother I can feel his pain
His grief and sense of loss
This Christmas was to have been
the first in 4 that we would have had
if not for the "prison boss".

Administrative Segregation is not
a good place to be.
To drive five hours with a little
girl for her daddy to see.
An endless wait for processing
and one small hour behind glass
Anothe five hour trip back home
An excuciating day, as cold as brass.

Many of you think drugs are a choice
but, this I know is true.
Addiction is a disease and treatment
is the only clue
My son is merely a symptom, of a problem
far and wide, a problem our government is
well aware of, and yet they choose to hide.
There are more drugs to be had in our prisons
than you'll even find in the streets.
For an inmate with addiction it's a world of treats!

My son, Thank God, has stayed clean
throughout his years of incarceration
but I fear for others who have succumbed
to prison's drug temptations.

My heart goes out to mother's
who's children are in prison
My prayer's go to all the children
whose parents live in the system.
And for my son, I hope and pray,
that his addiction will stay away.
And I will do whatever I can
to help him stay a safe and drug-free man.

By Kathleen, for my Son, Joshua, Corcoran State Prison, California, Jan, 2001

Loving a convict is so hard they say
Loving him is the price you pay
It's loving him with no one to hold
It's being young and feeling old
It's letting him whisper his love to you
Your whispering back you love him too
Then comes a kiss and a promise to wait
Knowing the prison now holds his fate
It's extremely painful letting him go
While dying inside from needing him so
Watching him leave with eyes full of tears
Standing alone with his hopes, dreams, and fears
Although you are near, but so far away
His love for you grows with each passing day
Loving a convict isn't much fun
But it's worth the wait when his time is done
Remember he's lonely and sad from being away
And he's thinking of you every single day
So love him and miss him and please tell him so
Because if you really love him, he desperately needs to know.

This is a poem my husband wrote for me. I wanted to share it.

-Tammy, Nov. 2000

The day was quite dull. Just like the feelings in her heart as she approached the wire fence. Atop the eight-foot high fence, she gazed up at the double row of razor wire coiled over the entire top of the perimeter fence. There was a third row nestled in between the two, not as decoration, but as deterrent. She knew this place contained both good and evil within its brick and concrete walls. She also knew it held many emotions inside; feelings of hope and hopelessness, truth and falsehood, exultation and despair, love and extreme hate, and tension. She felt all of these and more as she walked across the parking lot in the drizzly rain towards the gate which would soon open to allow people like her in to visit a loved one locked away inside.

As with each previous visit, she once again felt fear and trepidation at the same time as she felt anticipation that she would once again see his kind and handsome face, even for a short while. She had always felt his innocence of the terrible crime for which he had been convicted, but more and more, she was coming to grips with the fact that he would be locked away from her for a very long time. It was that feeling which made her sad, sometimes bringing tears to her eyes as she stood outside in the rain waiting for that damned gate to open.

When she was not there to visit, other emotions raged within her. She felt fear for his safety, although he had already been there for eight years. She felt worry that someone would hurt, or worse, kill him over something as petty as a look or a facial expression. She had been going to those places long enough to know that those events happened on a regular basis. These worries were always on her mind. Sometimes so strongly that she had to see him to know he was all right. Other times she felt peace, especially after a visit where he was in a happy mood and had news of events, which he was trying to organize for the other prisoners.

Many differing thoughts and emotions passed through her mind as she waited with a group of others listening to discussions about certain guards and how they could be so mean to both prisoners and their visitors. There, in the cold drizzle, complaints were voiced which she knew would never go further than the discussion outside those forbidding fences. Complaints about the lack of shelter from the weather, lack of compassion from the guards, the simple starkness of the place they were about to enter. Everyone knew that if you complained too much, you would not be allowed inside to see your loved one. There were stories told about losing visits because a guard did not like your tone of voice, your body language, or the clothes that you were wearing.

Finally the processing starts. This time it is only 3 or 4 minutes after the visit was supposed to start. She supposed that it would be a long wait still when the guard announced three at a time. She was about twelfth in line to go in.

Twenty-five minutes passed in the drizzling rain and now it was her turn to go through the processing that all visitors must go through. The first step was to show picture identification to the guard behind the bullet-proof glass barrier. While he checked to make sure she was on the list, she signed the visitor sheet, filled in her name, the person she was visiting, her car's licence number, and asked for a locker key. She knew that all she could take inside the next set of gates was $6.00 in coins to buy a coffee or a chocolate bar from the vending machines set up in the visiting room. She received a locker key from the guard through a slot in the glass and carefully wrote the number of the locker on the sheet. Then she put her purse and identification in the locker and locked it up, keeping some coins and the key with her. Then there was the next line.

As she waited her turn to be scanned through, she watched the woman ahead of her with her two children go through the metal detector. Of course, both children were wearing jeans, so the buzzer went off, indicating metal. The guard at the desk there then had to scan the children with a wand to find out exactly where all the metal was. When the mother went through, the same thing happened, so she also had to be scanned with the wand. It turned out that her high-heeled shoes had metal in them. The guard counted her coins to make sure that she had no more than the allowed amount, then asked for her glasses to scan for contact with drugs. There was, beside the guard, a machine called an ionizer. It checked for the presence of trace amounts of illegal drugs by burning the sample of dust wiped from the visitor’s personal object. The computer screen lit up with traces of cocaine. Then there was another wait while the guard asked her some questions about where she might have come into contact with the drug. It was only a small trace, so the conclusion was that it must have come from handling money to pay for her gas since she had filled up her car on the way to the prison.

It was her turn next. She approached the guard with trepidation, worried about all the possible things that could prevent her visit. She made it through the metal detector, then the ionizer, and finally the searching of her coat and counting of her coins. At last she was cleared to go into the prison itself.

There were two more gates to go through, one for each fence topped with razor wire, and the long walk down the stairs and pathway to the visiting area. Some attempts had been made to beautify the area by planting flower gardens, however, she barely noticed them on her way down. She had to go through another heavy metal door to get inside the building, then wait until another guard buzzed the electric lock on the door to the visiting room itself. A sense of relief settled over her. She was there. She picked out a table to sit down. One with two chairs. She waited. She felt the eyes of others on her. Guards watched her movements, other visitors and prisoners sized her up. She knew that the raised box in the centre of the table concealed a microphone. It was not to hide it, as everyone knew it was there, but to prevent prisoners or visitors from breaking it.

While she waited, she felt the tension of the prison. No one was totally relaxed in that room. It could be the cameras, watching from behind the dark bubbles in the ceiling, or the microphones in the tables, or the other prisoners, or the visitors, or the guards who were watching all the time. She felt like she was on display.

Nervously watching the clock, she began to speculate on the many things that could be delaying his arrival. It could have been a late meal line. It could be a problem getting through one of the many gates he had to pass to get there. It could be harassment by one of the guards inside. It could be that the guards in the visiting area did not even call him yet. It could be nothing, it could be anything.

Ten minutes later, he arrived. His dishevelled hair told her that he had been sleeping. She had nothing to worry about. An immense sense of relief washed over her as he approached the table. They hugged, then went for a coffee.

He told her of some of the things he was doing inside. He told her about his peer counselling and how it was getting busier. More of the prisoners were having a hard time keeping their families together. It was hard doing a long time and preserving the loving relationships that one had before. He told funny stories about events he witnessed and things he had done with his friends, but he never told her about the knifing that had occurred two days previously. She told him about the good things happening with the rest of his family and hers. She didn’t tell him that his grandmother had been diagnosed with cancer. They were trying to keep the conversation light, uplifting, as normal as two people talking in a coffee shop anywhere. But it was hard to ignore the others, the guards, the cameras, and the microphones.

It seemed much too soon that the visit was over. A three-hour visit. She reminded herself that she had really had only about two and a quarter hours with him, but tried very hard to pretend that it was long enough. At least she knew he was all right. Before she left, she booked her next visit. Three days later, she would have to do this all over again. A long hug, with guards staring at them, and she was out the door and back on the long path to the front entrance of the prison. Already feeling unsure of his safety and beginning to get nervous feelings, she walked to the gate and waited to be let out. Once more, she had to wait for a few minutes as the guards inside the gate house did not want too many people in there at one time.

Signing out was much quicker and easier than signing in. Soon she was back in her car heading for home. She felt great relief that he was all right. She felt happy that they had had such a pleasant time together. She was glad he was in her life. But, there was always the worry in the back of her mind. She knew he would telephone once in between the visits, so she had that to look forward to as well. She knew how terrible that place was. She knew how important to him her visits were. She knew that even after eight years of going through this tortuous procedure, she would continue as long as he was there.
Then her mind switched to thoughts of what else she could try to prove that he was innocent and get him out and free. Back to her normal life before she got home.

Poppy,

I wish you were home I know somday you will come home to me and taytay.you will be old but thats okay.i will be to.mommy crys alot becouse she misses you.me too.why pop why are you taking so long to get back home .it been long anough.did you kill some one.mom say no so what did they think you don so rong.i sure miss you alot i think about all the times i spent with you.it only makes me hurt more.poppy why do i have to hurt too.i did not do nothing rong or brack the law,but i am paying for it to.mommy gets mad at me becose i say that but poppy i am i wish i could take your place and let you come home to mommy she misses you . ilove you i will keep praying for you.

krista

This was by my 9 year old daughter.she wanted to send somrthing for everyone to read.my father is serving a 14 sentence he's been gone for 2 years now.and it's took it's tole on us all,

Thankyou
Teresa

True Love's Sin

She remembers when the trial began
Her love they said had killed a man
The people shunned them with disgrace
Then they sent him to that place
When it was done they all went home
When she left she was alone
Six long years have gone and passed
She once thought they'd go by fast
No one even wants to know, did he do it?
Her answer's no!
Yet she drives all day and night
For one happy moment in her sad life
She sees the prison far from the road
That cold dark place her love calls home
She longs to hold his big strong hands
But she's forbidden to touch her man
The tears well up as he walks in
A piece of glass concealing him
She thinks back to the day they met
Now she's paying for his regret

by Linda Stanfill

As I drive all the miles along this lonely road
My pain and thoughts are such a heavy load
Twisting and turning, snaking through the years
Memories are flowing down my cheeks bright as tears

I enter a stainless steel world wrought with sorrow
Where men serve time and there's no tomorrow
Zombies sitting, standing, day in and out
They no longer remember what it's about

I join the other families in the long line
Who like the men inside are serving time
Faces a road map of struggle and care
Lined up in front of a door to which they all stare

Finally I go through two heavily locked gates
Knowing inside is where my true love waits
Two hours of words finally spoken
Then it is time to leave our two hearts are broken

In the car I'm back to the miles of lonely road
My prayers are spoken with such a load
Whispers to heaven through a veil of tears
Memories flowing over the sorrow of years

God has a plan, He will work this out I am sure
So while waiting on Him we can endure
Jesus has the power to save and bless
If not at the present, then in Heaven, I guess.

Lord, Heaven sure can be so hard to remember
While walking through these storms of December.
We really need your grace to guide our way
And, too, Lord, sometimes you seem so far away.

I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope. My
soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I
say, more than they that watch for the morning.--- Psalm 130:5-6

10/9/99

Valentine Poem for T.

If you think the little "I love you's"
are just a way to end a letter.
If you think the "kisses"
are to help you feel better.
Then drops of water
are only for a splash
And lightning bolts
are just a small brief flash.

For there is something larger
and much more felt than seen.
Which stretches out across the miles
and fills deeper than the sea.
It is a longing without end.
It is a loving I cannot send
in letters small and typed and scrawled
but from my heart to yours,
I share it all.

By T.H. (for my husband at Lompoc USP)

2/18/2000

Time

Sometimes to find your love, I felt I had to look.
no one knows the strength it took.
My love for you has always shown, although
at times I felt I shared it alone.
We had our nights we had our days,
"I love you" was said in many ways.
Then quietly your secret was told, everything
you had done began to unfold.
Through all the hurt, through all the pain,
my love for you, it still remains.
They've taken you and locked you away,
for this we had to part.
Though it hurts us both and I wish you were here,
God's given us time to heal our hearts.

For my Husband, Robert Stotts, inmate at Tehachapi State Prison, CA
By: Yvonne Stotts, Fontana, CA

As I stood before a group of incarcerated fathers ready to receive parenting education, a small voice whispers to me, Somebody's son, husband, father.

Engaging them into classroom discussion, I look into their eyes only to glimpse the yearnings of their hearts. A strong desire to reunite with their children and family and still I hear, Somebody's son, husband, father. They soaked up every word, eager to learn, reassure themselves of their self-worth, and a need to feel needed. Again, Somebody's son, husband, father, I hear.

We made it past the first of nine sessions, succeeded first impressions, and comfortable with first names. He's more than just Somebody's son, husband, father but a person with an identity and a story to tell.

S.P. Bell, M.Ed., Facilitator, Fathers Are Parents, Too., Escambia County Jail/Counseling, Pensacola FL

I see it in your eyes while we visit.
The spark is dying.
I see it in your eyes.

I wait for you. I'll wait forever for you.
But you can't wait for me.
Because you're disappearing.
I see it in your eyes.

When will you hold me while I cry for lost
Youth?
Chances?
Life?
And children who will never be born to us.

When will your strong arms enfold me and hide me from the
Pain?
Loneliness?
Desperation?

I think about you at night my love when the world is sleeping.
I hug your pillow
Smell your old clothes
Try to fill the need only you can fill
And cry myself to sleep.
Only to awaken alone again, always alone

And I know it's the same for you
Lying in your hard bed with strangers all around
And unfeeling, unknowing, uncaring warders
Wandering the dark hallways of the warehouse of misery
Where your life slips away a
Year
Month
Day
Hour
Minute
Second at a time.

I know you need me at night
When the lights are dim
And memories of what we
Did
Said
Meant
To each other seep out of your memory.
I see it in your eyes.

Would you remember how to pleasure me
And how to let me pleasure you?
We both know it may never happen.
I see it in your eyes.

The years, the walls, the noise, the rules, the bad air
The poor medical care, lack of exercise for you body and mind
The hopelessness and loneliness and purposelessness of your existence
Are killing you
As surely as if they had strapped you to the table with a needle in your arm.
But they didn't sentence you to die.

They sentenced you to live
Behind walls
Behind wire
In the dark, frightening shadows.
And it's killing you.
I see it in your eyes.

To my husband, whom I love more than my life - Jane

walls behind me
i leave you and go with our daughter in the sun
and feel guilty
for looking at the same sun you cannot see

i love you and enjoy my independence
a new me, a stronger woman
but a weaker one too

circumstances made us who we are
and circumstances changed us
but circumstances are keeping us apart from becoming
who we wanted to be

i love you and i love my space
no more fighting
nothing to discuss about
i know it sounds foolish but
can we live opposites and
accept both?

one more year and you will
be (maybe ) out in the sun. i hope we will be
one and one again and grow and love
each other
but we are changed forever now.

life as we knew it
has left us
forever and still is here within me

i am one of the many women that wait on saturday morning, one of the many
that know what a prison looks like. i am a better person for that, i know
this much is true.

Keep Your Head Up

the years would past * time, lost to the motions of time-
one year turned to a decade I hoped I would have the
opportunity to see the son I hadn't seen since he was
18 months old * Friends I knew entered prison, I talked
to them, one of the guys conveyed he saw my son frequently
the friend conveyed my son and I looked alike, Father
and son * this brought a smile to a face which hasn't smiled
from the inside of a prison often * time continued to
haunt the restless hours I can not sleep * the young
manchild I haven't known * the years * the reflection
of time * the past, present, one's future without someone
you love.

to relive phases of a life where I errored the responsibilities
I should have maintained * each remembrance has the
flashbacks which pained the psychic, body, soul, spirituality
the emotions of this man have suffered tremendously *
the regrets * the focused contents of a son * the questions
he have about a father he did not know * Father, mother
and son trapped inside of the dramas to separation.

males and females lockdown to imprisonment realize
the emotional stages which disconnected males and
females whom have children, how can you alleviate
the inmost turmoil, the psychic equilibrium, the
imbalance, how? Memories are positive/negative,
people have to exist from the perspective of positives
to negatives somewhere in time, one's maturity
is at stake, always * keep your head up!

James E. Washington 087685
Wallens Ridge State Prison
P. O. Box 759
Big Stone Gap, Virginia 24219-0759

INNOCENT UNTIL PROVEN GUILTY
(Except in Texas...)

For Ray

I grew up believing the justice system worked,
That it was one of the better things about this country
Now I know better

Growing up I always heard it said that everyone was
Innocent until proven guilty
Now I know better

For an innocent man's life is shattered,
Lying in rubble around his feet while he tries to cope
With being told he's a criminal, when he's not
I know better

How many friends have we lost between us,
Those who ignore me because I'm standing by you?
Those who look down on us because of what "they" say you did?
I know better

And those false friends, who pretended to like me before,
They're no longer a part of my life, because I don't need them
And I realize they were never true friends in the first place
Now I know better

And you've come to realize just who your friends really are,
And how many people DO care about you,
Just like I always told you
Now you know better

How do we handle being separated for what could be years,
Knowing that justice ISN'T always served
And the legal profession makes mistakes too?
Now we know better

How do we cope with the bitterness we both feel
At how easily a judge can shatter lives, put plans on hold,
And shorten both our lives by the years you're in prison?
I hope we learn better

It's in God's hands now
Both your case and our lives
We thought we could correct it ourselves
Now we both know better

Innocent until proven guilty?
Believe it if you want...
It might be true elsewhere -- but not in Texas
WE KNOW BETTER!

by Diane
10/20/99

So many nights I sit here, wondering where he is, hoping he's all
rght, praying that my dreams were only dreams! Is there anybody out
there who can help me find my love-He seems to be lost in the system,
or maybe simply lost from ME!

Andreas,
I don't know if
you will ever read this,
I can only hope.
I can't promise
that tomorrow will be better,
I can't tell you
that I fully understand why
things happen as they do
to the people that we love.
I can't know if this is just
what God Has planned.
But I can say, I am here
if you should ever need me.
I know you're going through
a difficult time and
it's only natural to be
experienceing doubts about
the way you're handling things.
I believe in you.
I admire your courage,
your spirit and determination.
But, even more than that,
I believe in your ability
to come out of this
an even stronger and better person
than you already are.
Hang in there Lil' brother,
something good is bound to happen!

LOVE,
Arthur

http://community.webtv.net/AKELLYII/ALKII

18 years so far, and still the doors stay shut,
At times hope is real, then the "system" takes another piece from my
heart
I can't feel your pain, I feel mine
I can't know your sorrow, I know mine
Put yourself into My shoes, walk on the outside a while
I long for the day when we can sit without prying eyes, be ourselves
As a child, you used to tickle me, play games with me, as I became an
adult, you helped to teach me right from wrong, even if I thought you
didn't care, you always did, and still do.
Close your eyes, can you still see the park ? I can
I miss the safe embrace of your loving arms, the gentle way you wiped
away my tears, but you can't wipe them away now, 18 years of crying
tends to create pools that No one can wipe away.
I help as much as I can, and yet, I cannot give you the one thing you
dream about every day, and you cannot give me the same.
Did the Crime, Served The Time, .......... Now Let Him Go !!!!!!
Why does the PRC think they are Gods ? The Commisioner is NOT Jesus
Christ !!!
The Judge and Jury Sentenced you 18 years ago, yet you are still being
sentenced !!! Once a year the time comes to appear before the board. You
have had a 18 year "trial", and the ruling is still not in from the
"judges".
I want you home.

"I WAS IN PRISON AND YOU VISITED ME" (Matthew25:36)

Jesus, united with the Father and the Holy Spirit, give us your compassion for those in prison. Mend in mercy the broken in mind and memory. Soften the hard of heart, the captives of anger. Free the innocent; Awaken the repentance that restores hope. May the prisoners' families persevere in their love. Jesus, heal the victims of crime. They live with the scares. Lift to eternal peace those who die. Grant victims' families the forgiveness that heals. Give wisdom to lawmakers and to those who judge. Instill prudence and patience in those who guard. Make those in prison ministry bearers of your light for ALL OF US are in need of your mercy... Amen..

I share this prayer to all of us who have family members incarcerated in this country and around the world. Our hope lies in prayer and thanksgiving for the blessings that we do have. As they took my husband away in court that day I thought my world would end. Soon I realized what I had always known, that we have a merciful and loving God. A God of love and forgiveness. He never will ask any of us to endure in this life what He hasn't already given us the grace to get through. It's up to us, to our own free will, if we are to accept the challenge. We can all grow in humility, compassion, endurance and love through these experiences. You can't purchase those gifts anywhere, for any price. We can do this! Let us pray...

I am used to yelling so you can hear me.
At first I thought you were yelling to be
heard above the cacophony of angry voices.

Now I realize you are yelling to yell.
The noise. The damn endless noise.
You have become a part of it.

Your words are still sweet
but they are tinged with an edge
I have never heard in your voice.

I am frightened by what it is doing to you.
My sweet dreamer is dying.
Who will you be when you return?

Your bar buddies are gossiping. I won't talk about it.
Did you commit armed robbery? I won't talk about it.
Did you hit me? I won't talk about it.
We heard it is a Federal rap. I won't talk about it.
Why was nothing in the papers? I won't talk about it.
You seemed like such a nice guy...who would have thought? I won't talk about
it.

You will be home soon. We will talk about it.

It's been two years
two very long years

They past with some laughter but
mostly with tears.

I should be happy, so i'm told
'cause we're still young and not to old.

But no, now i'm scared how will it be
will he really come home and be true to me

or

have we both changed and grown apart
oh i hope not, I've done my part.

But maybe we are too old now just not in years
maybe we're worn out by all of the tears

I've waited and hoped and prayed for the day
when my baby can come home with me to stay

But i'm scared now and so afraid that my baby has
turned hard and will walk away.

I've been strong all this time and now i'm weak
so weak at times i think i'm a freak

Why now must I wonder if our love is true
why now must I ask if the sky is blue

I have all these letters that once made me glad
but I read them now and they all seem so sad.

They say:
My baby my Julie I hope you are fine
I hope you're not cheating
I hope you're still mine.

Oh baby oh baby I have not gone a stray
I love you more and more each day.

I hope these words are not words in a dream
for if they are i might wake up and scream.

I Miss You My Love.......................

I'm Scared

You've been gone now for quite some time
And I've been here trying to act just fine.
I come and visit you and am harrassed by the guards
because i visit my man behind bars.

I come every sunday
and have for two years

Time is passing and has been lost,
We fought for your innocence at all costs,
The children miss you and I feel I could die,
Because the cops and DA went on with their lie,
A 3 to 5 is what you were given,
Now a life of pain is what we are living,
I'm sorry this happened I can't imagin your pain,
Or maybe I can since I am feeling the same,
I would wait for forever if I needed too,
Because the children and I, we do still love you,
You and I know the truth, that your an innocent man,
This won't be forever and when your out here I am.

Nicole M. 8/6/99

Although it seems like there is no end
Only prayers to you I send.
I hope if you receive a chance
You'll put it all in God's hands.
Just remember, cause it is true
He will always Love You.

Until you have walked in my shoes
I guess you have nothing to lose

I've been down some roads
that were extremely rough,
But I swear it's just making
me that much more tough.

I've seen people get stabbed and die
I guess that's why I want to cry.

I've been in places you don't want to be
I'm sure you're really glad you're not me.

But in the end I can always say
I thank the LORD for giving
me the ability to Pray.

JJW

Silent rage hidden behind laughter

Silent rage hidden behind laughter
Thoughts of Freedom out of reach
Hands extended to a lover
Love inspired through blind faith

I call upon her name, and from the gray ruins
of memory a thousand tumultuousre startled at the sound!
Ah, vividly is her image before me now, as in thee early days
of our light, Heartedness and joy!
My unaminous love in her makes me hold on

I just wanted to share this poem I wrote to my husband. Most things I read and hear are down and negative. Yes, it is difficult, but God does not want us in a constant state of dispair. There is hope and love in all things.

God brought us together, a fact we do not doubt.
It's a mystery to others when they hear us shout.
They look upon our circumstance and cannot figure out
the peace and strength our love has brought, or how it came about.

Miles and walls and bars are obstacles it's true.
But then again, as with all things, it's from a point of view.
With hearts and minds wide open and God beside us too,
There's nothing here on mans earth together we can't do.

I feel your arms around me, when I snuggle up at night.
I hear your words in my ear, when I don't do things quite right.
I hear your laughter ringing, when I see something you'd enjoy.
I bless the love we're sharing, the contentment and the joy.

Together we are forever. That cannot be changed.
We live, we love, we pray, until it is arranged
for us to be side by side in a physical sense.
No more guards and wardens, no more brick and fence.

God's love is eternal, patient, strong, and kind.
A fact I must keep always, forward in my mind.
Why else would He have brought me the man that I adore?
An act for which I'm grateful, now, and forevermore.

God brought us together, a fact we do not doubt.
It's a mystery to others when they hear us shout.
They look upon our circumstance and cannot figure out
the peace and strength our love has brought, or how it came about.

Miles and walls and bars are obstacles it's true.
But then again, as with all things, it's from a point of view.
With hearts and minds wide open and God beside us too,
There's nothing here on mans earth together we can't do.

I feel your arms around me, when I snuggle up at night.
I hear your words in my ear, when I don't do things quite right.
I hear your laughter ringing, when I see something you'd enjoy.
I bless the love we're sharing, the contentment and the joy.

Together we are forever. That cannot be changed.
We live, we love, we pray, until it is arranged
for us to be side by side in a physical sense.
No more guards and wardens, no more brick and fence.

God's love is eternal, patient, strong, and kind.
A fact I must keep always, forward in my mind.
Why else would He have brought me the man that I adore?
An act for which I'm grateful, now, and forevermore.

Susan Clay, June 98

To step inside this hallow hole
You didn't ask. I will go
And to follow you to the depth of dispair
You didn't ask. I went there
To stay inside these hindering bars
You didn't ask. I made them ours
You gave me plenty opportunity to walk away
You let me out. I chose to stay
And when you die & say please don't cry.....
It will be my fault these eyes aren't dry
And when the walls come crashing down
There should be no sympathy for my frown
I saw the train. I made the crash
I came here. You didn't ask.
.
J.C.
May 1988

We are not widows, yet we grieve.
We are not single, yet we are so alone.
We ante up our years, knowing full well the cards are stacked against us. We wonder if the man we wait for can come back to us.
We will imagine ourselves still young, and we will overlook the evidence on undue worry and stress on our faces.
We dream of reunion, like the fountain of youth, returning our love and our lives.

Becky Pena
February 1998

The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed, and hence clamorous to be led to safety...

The truth is when the judge sentenced you he sentenced me too
The truth is it is harder being incarcerated in the world
The truth is there is a party Sat. nite and I'm thinking about going

I'm tired of all night crying, PO's lying, children driving me up the wall
Flesh of my flesh my strength is waning
Desires are becoming demanding
and God know's I don't want to hurt you
When the judge sentenced you he sentenced me too

Inmate's wife ,
Number so-and-so
I have no other name,
Don't cha know.
No other function.

When I came,
I stood alone,
Silenced by the pain
Of long atoning
For my spouse's sin.

The others,
They have works to share,
Hours spent on plans
And progress where
They open doors.

Where "inmate'
Means a mother's son,
Or a mother herself,
Whose children are gone;
Where needs are heard.

But they say
They need me too --
For my strength, for my hope,
For the way I grew
Through my trials.

Inmate's wife,
But starting to heal
From my heart's prison
Harsher than steel;
They've heard my silence now.

Anonymous 1989

I will tell our daughter everyday that her Father loves her. She will know how well he took care of her the first months of her life, from photos, video tape, and from those earliest memories that map on our brains the ability to love and be loved. I will do my best to help erase the confusion she is feeling when she wakes up cuddled on my arm, expecting to trade smiles with her father, seeing my face instead. I love her, but I cannot give her that big voice, long arms to curl up in, or scratchy face kisses. Instead of two parents to hold her close and safe, she will only have me...tired and irritable from trying to support three daughters with my sewing business, never able to give them the time and attention they need.

The day will come when she will ask me what her Daddy is like and why he isn't with us if he loves us so much. I'll tell her the truth, "your Dad is a good, sweet man, but he had some mean things done to him when he was little and it made his feelings confused when he got to be grown. He didn't know how to stop sometimes when what should have been good touches turned to bad touches. Later, he thought about it and decided to try to never hurt anyone ever again. Then he met me and we fell in love. (That's how you got to be here)

But after you were born, he had to go in front of a judge to see if he should be punished for the bad stuff he did long before you were born. Lots of people told the judge that he was a better person than before, and having beautiful little you made him want to work real hard to make your life happy. A doctor even did some tests that proved he was OK. But the judge didn't see it that way, so they took your Daddy away. They only let us kiss him good-bye one time...and he was gone."

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