Prison Journalism: From the streets

From the streets of a concrete jungle into a concrete box 
I now reside inside a prison cell for years longer than I’ve been alive 
I miss the outside for the possibilities of where we should be 
Walking free trying to see all there is in life anyone can be
But here I am amid this arid stench that flows and grows 
Through the air as painful despair because concerning life, I did not care 
I miss walking alone among the crowds, just another heartbeat of society 
An unskilled anomaly, struggling in poverty, but today I’m state property 
Confined behind chain-link razor-topped fences; Steel benches and armed guard towers
A change of power surrendered by the choices I’ve made 

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To the errant street hype my life mistakenly I gave, freedoms I’ve waived 
Now, living as I’m told, where doing time is growing old 
And can turn the heartbeat iceberg cold 
Bitter sweet is missing the freedoms of going wherever to see 
Visiting places no one should be, knowing internally 
An upstanding citizen, never again going to be 
Reminded daily, you’ll never be free 

ALSO READ: Prison journalism: From father and son to strangers

So, what is it now that anyone should strive for? 
What I have done too many have cried for; the essence of life still I’ll try for 
I desire to give honor to the life lost at too high a cost 
By my crime of self-medication, displaced aggression and let’s not to mention 
Pains from childhood unwanted attention 
Today I strive to mold into the power of self 
While learning the wealth of abilities in me before I did not see 

ALSO READ: Prison journalism: The feelings I hold for Nelson Mandela

Using the time and education invested in me 
Would I not be a help to society if given the hope of an opportunity? 
Is rehabilitation not valid when it pertains to a life taken? 
Shall there be no hope for a mind reawakened? 
Changed in time, remorseful of this crime 
To whom does society want me to be if I’m never going to be free? 
While I miss the outside, my cost upon society 
Is greater than imagined 

ALSO READ: Prison journalism: Forgotten Youth

The damages I apologize the more for 
Yet knowing can never be repaid 
My mistakes past that last into the tomorrows no one’s even seen yet
Negating how much better any man can get 
But in me I pray some may choose to see… 
A possibility. 

The article was facilitated by Erin Parish from the Human Kindness Foundation (HKF).

The Human Kindness Foundation’s mission is to encourage more kindness in the world beginning with people in our prisons and jails.

HKF has published several books including: We’re All Doing Time, Lineage and Other Stories, Deep and Simple, and Just Another Spiritual Book and provide these books for free to people currently serving time in prisons or jails.

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