Can You See Into My Incarceration?


My life is as hard as crack cocaine
But worth less.
These drab gray walls reflect my
Potential for the day.
When my thoughts turn to freedom
They jam like a gun!
All the while I’m told to dream
While staring down a barrel.
Told to dream to the music
Of keys dangling in the background.
In prison,
All we have is the broken promises of loved ones
And the hope that one day they’ll keep one.
I see inmates believing in Christmas and Santa
For the wrong reasons.
Because Santa’s gifts seem instant
While waiting for God can take years
Like habeas corpus decisions.
I got my G.E.D. the other day
It felt like I was holding a letter
I had written to myself.
I sat staring at the diploma
Waiting for a response.
I know I should be proud
(I guess I am in a way)
But I can’t help wondering
If the world can see my accomplishment?
I search for light
In the corner of my cell.
If I’m baptized in the fire
Of self rehabilitation
(The only true rehabilitation left in prison)
Will society hold up its end of the bargain
And give me my name back in exchange for
This prison number (P-67144)?
If I could believe that
I could really be free.
I see all the emblems of a slave around me
Maybe I’d be more productive picking cotton
But all I see is dust bunnies and cobwebs…