FCN: The Wall

Separated
To my dear husband, whom I will love forever
Separated by walls and glass
Talking to each other on a silly phone
Making sure not to tick off the brass
Or they will make us be all alone

Separated by chains and bar
Sleeping in a separate place
Distance between us seems so far
Longing to see your face

Separated by handcuffs and lawmen
Trying to stay strong
Only connection through paper and pen
The days without you seem so long

Separated on the physical plane
But not in our dreams or in our hearts
Our love fights against the separation pain
Our hearts pierced by Cupid's dart

Separated but not for long
Another day closer and he'll be here
A prisoner's wife uses that to stay strong
As she waits for her loved one so dear

- Rebecca Basley, September 2007

Missing you
Today is just so sad
Because you are not here
My heart is not glad
Without having you near

I hate this time away from you
Some days it's hard to bear
But I am your wife and I must do
Whatever it takes to let you know I still care.

You are still the best person I know
I will stand by your side through it all
Life has given us one bad blow
But united as a family we will never fall

So on this day of love and care
I wanted to say
Let the world do what they dare
In your heart I'll ALWAYS stay.

- Rebecca Basley, September 2007

Love of a Child

I woke one morning feeling blue
To learn of such terrible news.
But from this news, my life began
I am a mother once again.

She is not mine, not just yet,
But in my heart she's mine you bet.
Her loving touch, her soulful eyes,
The way she smiles, just makes you cry.

This precious baby all alone,
But not for long, she's found a home.
She loves to play and run about,
Savannah is loved, there is no doubt.

Love Lives
For Paul Seau (McCreary U.S.P., Pine Knot, KY)

Love lives atop a mountain in Kentucky,
off a winding, narrow road with a highway speed limit,
spotted with random signs offering lawnmower repair and fresh tomatoes,
scattered steeples, porches, and homemade crosses
surrounded by litter of faded plastic flowers and gnarled stuffed toys,
reading RIP Johnny, Annie W., George --
tacky memorials to drunk or careless men,
who plummeted down steep inclines
at the roads edge without barriers.

Love lives in a concrete cell,
in a concrete building, a concrete compound, on a severe, graded site.
Acres with no trees or vegetation, juxtaposed against the mountain’s charm,
surrounded by metal fencing and miles of coiled razor wire
gray metal twisted around gray cement like spiked tumbleweeds from Hell.
A compound entered only through lethargic, electric doors,
heavy and metal, they whine as they open and clang as they shut;
operated by polite men and women in brown, with trained facial muscles
hiding humanity, occasionally smiling but without first names.

Love lives among captors and captives,
both speaking a hostile language of indignity,
unable to connect through a shared apathetic lexicon.
Circling one other anxiously, teeth bared in aggressive growls borne of fear.
Men are classified and numbered, deprived of human touch and emotion,
stripped of their possessions, their clothing and dignity,
forced to bare testicles, anus and soul.
Like all cultures, prison has a vocabulary -- a shot, a shake down, the hole,
words of subjugation, deprivation, control.

Love lives in my imagination,
in a body length pillow that holds me at night.
Stroking my hair as I drift off to dreams of his kisses,
he speaks to me gently and lulls me to sleep.
We meet in our minds at 11:11, to share a kiss and a metaphor,
in a momentary reassurance of unity in spirit.
Though aware of the physical, the distance and separation,
we live together, alone in our thoughts and dreams, in the gentle world
of our own consciousness, created and maintained to defy our reality.

Love lives deep in my heart,
speaking through metaphor, innuendo and poetry,
telepathy and fifteen minute phone calls.
We steal touches and share secrets and peanut butter cups
under the surveillance of cameras and chaperones with guns.
My heart aches at the perimeters, the boundaries, the yellow line
drawn around vending machines, he cannot cross or go beyond.
In my heart there are no boundaries, no perimeters, no lines,
Love lives freely to roam and explore without limits.

Love lives in the secret place of the Most High,
in the shadow of the Almighty, under His wings taking refuge,
in the shield and buckler of divine truth,
unafraid of terror by night, or destruction that lays waste at noon.
No evil will befall Love in the habitation of the Most High,
where he is never alone in distress.
Love will tread upon the lion and cobra, trampling the serpents.
God gave His angels charge,
and God will deliver and honor Love, just as He has promised.

- Melodie Baron, 02/2005

until the day my heart returns

i will sit by this half-open window

watching leaves change face and buds bloom

through winter’s freeze and summer’s hearth

when sun first kisses sky to moon’s last dance as the stars blush

while time’s slow hands caress from 12 to 12, but no pulse

i will be here

with this hole in my chest

where my heart once was

until the day my heart returns

i will stand at this paint-chipped door

watching knee-high faces grow and pass me by

through morning’s quick rush til midnight’s slow creep

when the breeze follows in after a visitor to the emptiness that lingers after they’ve long gone

while my years mature from “miss” to “ma’am,” yet no pulse

i will be here

with this hole in my chest

where my heart once was

until the day my heart returns

i will dream in this restless sleep

watching memories rewind and replay slowly so i feel you a little longer each time

through the haunts of heartbreak’s end to bittersweet love’s embrace

when my bed grows and the empty side swallows me whole

while tears dry on my cheeks with your kiss then drown my sheets each time you leave again

and still no pulse

i will be here

with this hole in my chest

where my heart once was

until the day my heart returns

i will sing this monotonous song

watching my words fill the air like smoke streams but fade from being too short to reach you

through the repetitive melody of wanting you to my a capella rendition of missing you

when my voice strains and my lungs deflate and yet i continue to sing

while my eyes gets heavy and my fists clench but the beat has since ended leaving only the sound of my heaving breath trying to sing loud enough and long enough that you’ll hear it and know how severely i need you to come back to me… cause baby i love you/cause baby i miss you/cause baby i need you next to me, loving me, holding me/ i just want you all the time/to kiss /to hug/to comfort/to love…you

and

in spite of everything

with all that i do

no matter what i say

no pulse

so i will be here

with this hole in my chest

where my heart once was

until the day you come home

- O., August 2004

I couldn't come today 'cause my mom said I have to go to school. That's what she told me but I think she's afraid I might cry when my dad finds out how long

I hope he doesn't have to be away too long 'cause he's a good dad. I know he did something wrong when he hurt somebody. He said he has to be in a long

time out. But how long will he be away? It's been real hard to pay attention in school since he's been in jail. I have to get special help. My teacher says I can't

pay attention like the other kids especially near my birthday or the holidays 'cause I know he can't be with me. I just keep thinking about going fishing with him

or walking around the corner to get Chinese food and playing at the sand park. Did you ever do those things with you dad?

My dad would never hurt me. Please send him home real soon. If you do I'll make him promise to never hurt anybody again. When I grow up I want to

You enticed me from my castle
whispering tenderly in my ear
musical words of love
I waited a lifetime to hear

I built my fortress tall
I was hesitant to let you in
"You must trust me," you said
we cannot fight fate and win

"You are my rose; you are my soul,
an angel with your smile"
speaking enchanting words so sweet
to delight me all the while

My gladiator in borrowed dreams
a voice without a face
Welcome sweetheart to my world
enveloped in passionate embrace

I am happy
happy to absorb your expressions of love happy I taste your shadowy lips happy you unchained my aching soul

I will wait forever.....
though your distance shouts loudly at my heart You do not see me but I am here I am real

I thank you Lord for my children. I thank you for giving me the strength to raise them alone. I thank you for giving them strength to love their father no matter what mistakes he made. A father who has been locked up since my son was 2 and my daughter was 2 months. Their father was a teenager when he committed his crime, and little did he know that it would take such a toll. I thank you for the last 14 years of our lives. I thank you for allowing me to provide for them through the years. I thank you for their every breath.
If only their father knew how much they cherish those two years and two months. My son has grown into this wonderful young man and I can't believe he's ours. He is truly my heart and soul. My daughter has her Dad's face and his beautiful smile. Even though she has only held him for short periods of time throughout her life she continues to love him with all her heart. They both respect him as though he were out here with them everyday. And they can't wait for the next two hours to come again. I can't believe that I have raised these two kids to be so strong. I thank you Lord up above for watching over them everyday of their lives.
I always thought I had it hard, but watching them grow up into these wonderful teenagers makes wonder how much harder it must of been on them. They are truly a blessing from up above. Thank you Lord for my children because without them I would be nothing.

Love MOM, July 19, 2003

For Me…

I remember your laugh

And how it tickled me

I remember the depth of your voice

And the anticipation in your face

Days when tears rushed to

Fall from those deep brown eyes

You held them back

So that you wouldn’t fade

For me

I remember feeling your pain

Wondering how your heart

Continued to beat in

The dark loneliness

That was your existence

How you were able to breathe

And keep your head up

Against the odds

For me

I remember your touch

With strength, yet gentleness

That wrapped me up

In safety and in peace amidst turmoil

I wondered how tenderness

Compassion and faraway dreams

Were preserved within you

For me

I was amazed by you

And the treasures you grasped

From the corners of your mind

Those so creatively born

In a stone cold reality

Yet filled with joy and hope

And happiness

Outside of a world

You couldn’t share

Still you did it

For me

One day, you shall experience

The love you’ve given

The piece of your heart

You gambled and shared

With another human life

And the fulfillment

You’ve longed for

Shall be granted

Somewhere, somehow

Because of all you’ve done

For me

Lisa Karlaã 2004

Dedicated to my husband Levon Walker, Jr. by Lisa Karla Walker copyrighted 2004. Used with permission.

It's the current that moves the tide...know what moves the waves you ride. - Lisa Karla

For fifteen years inside this prison system I sleep,

For fifteen years inside your heart you will weep,

A little while longer once again the sun will shine,

A little while longer once again freedom will be mine,

Thank you for caring for me like you care for yourself,

Thank you for caring for me when everyone else had left,

You might not be there, but, I'll never be alone,
Is there something better on the other side? I really need to know,
Is there something better on the other side? Then, why can't everybody go?
Everybody makes mistakes nobody's perfect,

Everybody makes mistakes, but, is eternal fire worth it?

I pray to the heavens that our lives will get better,
I pray to the heavens that these last twelve years won't take forever...

by J.Wade, submitted by P.Wade, mom in sorrow, June 1, 2001

A Mothers Love For Her Child

A Mothers love:
Is unconditionally, everlasting.
A bond never to be severed.
Protecting and nurturing,
Growing deeper, with her every breath.
The miracle of giving birth,
To her beautiful babe
Is just the beginning,
To the many miracle’s that only a mother
Is ever Blessed to experience.
As her small babe takes its first breath,
Miraculously in sync,
She takes her first breath
As she is reborn in union with her child.

From this very moment,
With every heartbeat,
Every breath, sleeping and waking moment,
She lives for her child.
For in a mothers heart,
She and her child co-exist almost as one.

When her child suffers pain,
Much in the same,
She feels their pain.
When her child is sad,
She feels their sadness,
When her child is happy,
She experiences that happiness,
When her child cry’s,
(Though often unseen),
She cries with them.
If her child travels a troubled path,
She asks herself: did I lead him there?
Through her child’s successes,
She also feels success.

So, you see my child,
From your first breath in life,
I have always been with you!
When you took your first step,
I took that step with you.
As you discover and grow
I discover and grow along side you.
When your heart aches,
My heart aches for you.
Your fears, in essence,
Become my fears to help you overcome.
Your tears, become my tears,
Your laughter becomes the music to my heart.

With each of your heartbeats,
My heart, beat’s two.
One for me, and one for you.

Yes my child, you are an individual.
Nevertheless, always remember,
The lifeline that connected you to me
May have been severed at birth,
But in my heart and soul
You will always be,
Connected and a part of me.

So, as you begin to make a life of your own,
Please forgive me
When my grasp seems too tight,
It’s so very hard to let go, you know.
Please always remember, my child,
In my heart always, you will forever be:
One of my lifelines,and a part of me.
I will Love You throughout all Eternity!

Cynthia Baalerud, Copyright 2001, All Rights Reserved, Used with Permission

PRISON?

Why God? Why?
His life will never be the same!
Isn't it enough that You let his mind be maimed
By a man with anger issues
That gave him the same?
Isn't it enough that his father walked away,
That his best friend had to die,
That he's always been betrayed?
It's not like he's not trying, Lord,
To get it right with You,
To dare to trust You one more time
And yield it all to You.
He's really, really tired, Lord
It's been a long, hard 22 years.
He only wants a happy life
To live in peace
And without fear.
43 years I've walked with You
And Your hand's been on my life.
I know You know what's best
And I've yielded to You my life.
You've never let me down Lord,
Not once in 43 years
So what's this all about, Lord?
I can't see it through my tears.
Where is Your Mercy
Where is Your Grace
That You promised to those
Who come to You in faith?
I don't mean to be disrespectful
But yes, God, I am mad!
And yes, I know You love me
And no doubt, it makes You sad.
And I'm sorry for that Lord,
And oh, for so much more
But don't You get it, God?
I feel my prayers have been ignored!
It's not about my life Lord,
You take good care of me.
It's about my child, Lord--YOUR son
Who needs to be set free.

cv
5-18-03

I FEEL LIKE I AM DYING, WITHOUT THE MAN I LOVE. HE IS IN PRISON, AND SO AM I. OUR DAUGHTER, OUR BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL, IT BREAKS MY HEART THAT SHE MET HIM BEHIND BARS. JEFF, I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO EXPRESS TO YOU JUST HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU OR HOW MUCH YOUR LOVE MEANS TO ME. I FEEL LIKE I AM DYING WITHOUT YOU, I FEEL MY HEART BREAKING EVERY MORNING WHEN I WAKE UP ALONE. I JUST WISH I HAD YOUR STRONG ARMS TO HOLD ME AND YOUR SMILE THAT CAN SHINE TROUGH MY TEARS. I WILL WAIT FOR YOU NO MATTER HOW MUCH MY HEART ACHES. I HAVE LOVED YOU FOREVER, AND NOW I WISH I COULD SEND THIS LOVE I FEEL TO YOU TO KEEP YOU SAFE AND HAPPY. YOU ARE MY LIGHT IN THE DARK, MY HEART. I NEVER THOUGHT I COULD LOVE YOU THIS MUCH AFTER ALL THE PAIN YOU PUT IN MY SOUL. I CAN FEEL YOUR LOVE, IT SURROUNDS ME AND IT IS THE ONE THING THAT KEEPS ME FROM FALLING APART. I NEVER KNEW LOVE WOULD BE THIS STRONG OR THIS PAINFUL. I LOVE YOU ALWAYS AND FOREVER.
YOUR WIFE, AMANDA

I can't sleep... I'm thinking about him...Always- thinking about him....
I got the call yesterday, the one we all hope for... Pray for...He's coming home...
Thank God and goddess.... He's coming home....
Shit I'm scared. What will we do? What will we say? I love you? Always!!!
It's been 10 years since he's seen me naked, YIKES!!!!!!
I'm not even sure he'll come home to me...We aren't married, and he has to go to his folks place...
One of the conditions of his parole is that he can't be involved with a mother of children under 16 yrs. Old... I have 2 of them... I'm so scared...
He said not to worry, that "we" will find a way... I don't think so.... Not right now anyway...
So I'll pray Some More and hope Some More... And maybe "we" will find our way....
LOVA, 1/5/03

There should be a way that the unmarried mothers who have children with a prisoner to have family visits, because the American family is all ready broken and some of these kids never meet there fathers, lose contact and are left at risk! Who knows, if the President of the U.S. cares about the youth that otherwise wouldn't have a chance, maybe some day the world will be a better place.

- Anonymous, May 2002

I heard today you're on the run. Your story on the front page. The drugs took over your life once more. The promises you made to our 11 year old son are just words...haunting his dreams of hope.

He struggles with depression at such a young age. He has so much pain and anger inside....you'll never see him cry.
I am the one who picks up the pieces every time you go back- and tries so hard to calm his rage.
He loves you so much, can't you see? He askes me why you choose drugs over him...what do I say? He seen your picture on the front page of our newspaper! You don't mean to hurt him, I know. But he doesn't understand! All he does know is that
Again, there are no promises.....no hugs

No happy fishing trips.....
Just letters in the mail.....
And hope for one more time.....
To be together, to be free.....
Until the next time you say goodbye.

- Written for all the children left behind and the parents trying to cope with the pain they have...
Dedicated to my sweet son, Nick, September 2002

Them that's got shall get
them that's not shall lose
for the bible says and it still is news
Mama may have, Papa may have
but God bless the child that's got his own

But what happens if mama's doing a 25 to life bid
That started at age 7 when you are just a kid

She's led away right before innocent eyes in handcuffs
for murdering a nigga in a fisticuffs

Now I don't advocate homicide
and I don't advocate the use of the word "nigga"
But this was not just any nigga, but the nigga -
who deserves to be called nothin less than nigga
who stole my virginity at age seven and left me
feeling
INCOMPLETE
He unearthed sacred treasures before I knew I
possessed them
He defiled my queendom while mama was out trying to
get.
so we could have.

And you couldn't tell me that I was blessed,
cause papa had even less
he was Missing in Action
and Absent without leave
all at the same damn time
so how was God gone bless me?
his bid was longer than my memories of having him in
my life.

Seems to me that I was damned from the beginning
Conceived in fornication, genetically altered by
sedation
Which means I was born with an addiction to a drug
that I couldn't
pronounce, understand or comprehend
I never personally shot up.
yet I was addicted to Heroin

I spent my first 12 weeks living in an incubator
kickin some shit that I'll never know
didn't form my first words till I was past 2 years of
age
and some predicted by statistics that I'd grow slow
Foolish men

Yes the strong gets more
while the weak one's fade
empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, Papa may have
but God bless the child that's got his own

My preteen years
Well they spun more scary tale scenes than dreams
while little blond headed girls played with dolls and
waited for their
Fairy godmother with the golden halo
and white bright wings that flapped silently.
yielding her golden magic wand
I played with the idea of running free. moving
endlessly
with my fairy godmother.. who Rocked an Angela Davis
Afro
she had red, black and green wings
and a raised fist was all that she carried

Yeah, she would come and save me from all the demons
that surrounded me.
She'd convince me that all the negativity was not my
reality.
I thought she would help a sistah escape.
escape a spiritual death. of violence
that had me pinned up in the corner
sweating. having asthma attacks
and fearing my own damn shadow.

Now let me set the scene for you.

As a child, I can remember at trial
when the Prostitutor for the government
said. that "The laws of the government are in the best
interest of the child"
As an adult I've learned that "The laws of the
government are IN HUMANE"
and its interest is in the bank.
growing like the number of children who are being
rasied by Grandma,
Nana and Auntie Pat

its interest is earning
while motherless children are yearnin
for somebody to show up at a PTA meeting
and listening for that voice to come from the back row
of a play
and say. "That's my baby up there yall!"

The government took all of that away from
and replaced it with an even smaller welfare check
now made payable to my grandmother

And so the Prostitutor, the social worker and the
government claimed that they were trying to save me.
when they never heard me shout that "Mama was trying
to save my ass!"

yet there's no interest in that.

Money, you've got lots of friends crowding round the
door
when you're gone and spending ends.
they don't come round no more.
Rich relations give, crust of bread and such
you can help yourself, just don't take too much
Mama may have, Papa may have
but God bless the child that's got his own..

The motherless child they call them.
the born addicted
the child of the incarcerated
the HIV positive baby.
they didn't ask for this life yall,
they didn't put in a request to be sent to this world.

But Mama was supposed to have when they arrived
Papa was supposed to have.
or at least be trying to GET.
some love
some presence
but woe unto the man who forsakes Jah's little one's.

I didn't know that I would be this.
be this big in heart,
this strong in nature,
this wise,
this verbal.
but neither did I , nor did society know that I would
more than SURVIVE.

I guess it don't matter that Mama ain't have.
and Papa. whoever the hell he really is. ain't have.
cause God still blesses.
he blessed THIS child.

He blessed me with:
a praying grandmother who taught me not to fear
fear nothing but the Lord.
to be the light that shines,
so that I might show others the way.

He blessed me with his Word that says that "the Lord
takes care of babies and fools"
so I've been covered on all fronts.

I'm too blessed to be stressed
to wise to live lies.
sowing beauty to reap its harvest
and giving love so that it may find its way back to
me.

God blessed this child,
and will bless all those that seek him.

Mama may have, Papa may have
but God bless the child that's got his own.
He just worry bout nothing
cause he got his own.

- by Tanya S. King/"Journey" © August 2000
with contribution by Billie Holiday/Arthur Herzog,
Jr., used with permission. Contact the author at journeywrites@yahoo.com.

I have marched the lengths of roads that have no journeys end. I have marched to the Capitol for you my beloved son, my friend.
I have marched the length of many yards to see you smile, Yet I still dream of the day you and I can together walk a country mile.

You are my strength brave warrior, living within the belly of the beast. Your voice is silenced behind the wall so still, I am your echo and your beacon, I will carry you with me always to whomever I may speak.

I use to be a woman of who I thought was strong, yet in my silence and darkness I often wondered, "how can I go on"? Not till you, my child, suffered beyond human rights, did I realize how weak I was and knew I had to fight.
Fight for your justice, fight for your rights. It happened along this journey that I began to understand, that not only are you my child,
but your one hell of a man......

A man who stood up to them and took their vicious blows, one who protected others and gained victory against the foe. It is you my beloved son that I honor, you have created the strength of a dragon within my soul...

Our struggles may have lessened, our victories are new, yet the war against the system shall continue till there are no more walls,
no more prisons, no more victims, no more pain. Then and only then can we all be free again....

I love you mi hijo with every breath I take, my day begins for you and ends with the hope of our freedom..... Love, Mom..

Barbara McCarthy, May 2002

For My Son Juan Cruz, an ex-prisoner of a Control Unit Prison and still a prisoner of our country.

1. Have a firm belief and changed heart that you will do the right thing this time. Not many people get a second chance. Make the most of the second chance you have been given.

2. Make your peace with God, or whatever higher power that you believe in. Ask for forgiveness and open your heart to receive his forgiveness and love. Attend a weekly gathering of the faithful. Become part of God's community and let your presence be known through good works and deeds in the name of God.

3. Accept the love and support of your family and vow that you will not let them down this time.

4. Find and keep a job, no matter how humble. Do the best you can, be proud of your work.

5. Love and support your children. Be the loving head of the family. Guide your children with love, kindness, and teach them the ways of God. Help them to take a positive and useful place in society.

6. Love and support your wife. Respect her as the loving mother of your children, the spiritual head of the family, and your partner for life. If she fails in any way, guide her with love and kindness and help her to be the wife and mother she was meant to be.

7. Perform acts of restitution to the community either through spiritual or physical work to prove to all that you have changed and now wish to be a special and valued member of the community.

8. To those that believe, say the prayer of Jabez daily so your life will be blessed as you help others and allow God to expand your territories through love, kindness, and good work.

THE PRAYER OFJABEZ

OH, THAT YOU WOULD BLESS ME INDEED,
AND ENLARGE MY TERRITORY,
AND THAT YOUR HAND WOULD BE WITH ME,
AND THAT YOU WOULD KEEP ME FROM EVIL,
AND THAT I MAY NOT CAUSE PAIN.

To Whom It May Concern:

I think giving financial help and ministry to children whose parents are
incarcerated is great. However, I do believe the federal government needs to
accept their responsibility and part in the incarceration of so many. I
think they should stop offering financial kick backs and support for states
willing to implement mandatory sentences for violent offenders. In the state
of Missouri we have a mandatory sentencing law that states that any violent
offender must serve 85% of a sentence before being released if they committed
a violent crime. The reason we have this law is because our federal
government offered the state financial assistance if it would implement the
mandatory sentence. This is wrong!!! So many people did not actually
commit a violent crime but are sentenced under this law. If Mr. Bush really
wants to make a difference, then he should stop the offering of financial
assistance to states from our federal government for the purpose of
implementing mandatory sentences. We do not want a penal society!!!
Missouri has builty prisons for the purpose of boosting our state economical
status. This is wrong!!! We should not be building prisons to boost the
economy, lets build universitys, churches, or alternative sentencing
facilities. Let's implement healing, love, compassion, and understanding
into our society. It is time for change and it begins with us.

Sincerely, Sarah J. Wesselmann, March 2002

A tribute to every prisoners mom by beautifulWinds

We think we know what is best
for our sons and daughters.

We think we know
who they will become,
as we comfort and guide them.
We shelter and nourish
their every desire, every need.
We are consumed by their every whim
and freely we spend our lives on them.

Seems their every success and failure is as our own,
and then in a moment they seem to be grown

A time does come
when we must 'let them go'
For some, that time comes too soon
and others too late
it is inevitable at any rate.

They go off on their own
out of our sight
and we humbly pray
that we taught them right.

Will they be safe
thru the darkness of night?
Will they be home
in the mornings light?

It's been a long dark night for most of us here.
and most of us have lived thru some incredible fear.

We've come down a path of unbarable grief
sometimes it seemd there was no relief.

As our hopes and dreams
were snatched away and caged.
Inwardly we were outraged.

We have suffered sorely.

It's not about the crime,
innocence or guilt.
It's not about the time
or a failed system
where injustice is built

It's about our sons and daughters
being in the Morning Light.
It's about all the broken souls
on this pitiful prison plight.

The cruel edge of this reality
cuts like a sharp knife
right thru the tender heart
of a prisoners mom.

I pray for our children,
to make it thru the darkness of the night
and see the beauty of God's Morning Light
A light eternal,
offered to every broken soul.
May they find His Light
and be made whole.

That's the wonderful thing about Love.
You never have to take it away from one person to give it to another.
It's kind of like a Giant Rubber Band
that stretches to surround all the people you care about.

Only twelve more to go
It's getting harder to do this
the time is passing so slow.

The nights seem longer
and more lonely each night
I cry in anguish as I hold his pillow tight

I long for his scent, that has long been gone
why couldn't he be here
"they've " got him all wrong

He should be next to me
Safe in our bed
But the system caught him
So were both alone instead.

One day coming home from work on a rainy day with the children all
soaking wet, was were for the first time I looked at my children and realized
I was all alone me & them, I was all they had. To never hear the word Daddy
come out of my children's mouth to see fathers in the street or at the park
holding there little ones. To never have a complete family is what's breaking
my heart. I am a good mother and I love my children more than life itself but
what I wouldn't give to have "Daddy." I am tired physically,emotionaly and
mentally. That day I cried all the way home, since then every rainy day I
cry myself to sleep, asking for God to give me strength to make it through
another day. When I feel I no longer have the strength I look at my two
beautiful children and they give me the love and strength that I need.
I hope that when you come home you can make up for all the missed time and
the heartache you gave.

LOVE YOU FOREVER.........BRIGITTE

If you heard my name today
you wouldn't know it from any other.
we grew up worlds apart
you with your mother and our father
me with my mother.

I'm looking at our brother facing the same charges
as you did.

I guess the question is why wasn't it stopped.

I watched our father die four years ago.
It was the saddest day and the happiest day of my life.

Then I knew it had all stopped, but the after affects
linger on.

You are my brother and I love you just for that.

- Anonymous in NY, April 2001

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

Family & Corrections Network
The Wall 2000 -