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A human landfill for society’s disgraced.

 

Ironically, the sky was foggy and gray.

For some this journey- a ticket one way.

The Illinois Department of Corrections bus pulls into Menard,

The Mississippi River alongside,

A living inferno awaits on the inside.

 

Nestled into an excavated half-moon tomb,

A 70-foot-tall peripheral rocky wall,

immense double-barbed wire fence.

Reality instantly sets in.

 

Clad in a banana jumpsuit,

Shackled hands and feet,

Some will never, ever see the street.

Yet some were cheerful,

Others’ eyes hung low in defeat.

 

A human landfill for society’s disgraced,

Ancient, dreadful dismal place.

A youngster wipes a tear from his face.

📬

These stories arrive by mail.

Every month, a physical envelope arrives at your door, postmarked from San Quentin Village, California. Inside, you will find original artwork, writing, and recipes from real contributors, along with a personal letter from me, Diane Kahn, founder of Humans of San Quentin, about the people who made them. You read it. You keep it.

Every piece comes from someone serving a sentence. Every piece reminds you they are so much more than that.

📬 Join the Mail Club

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