Meet Miguel…

I live a life in recovery and searching my past for clues as to my imprisonment.

I live a life in recovery and searching my past for clues as to my imprisonment. I abstain from trouble and misconduct to truly demonstrate my change. I currently facilitate groups and have published a book titled 25 to Life with a Juvenile Mind in hopes of using my mess for a message. Hopefully my poem will spark conversations about our current structure of punishment and bring reflection.  


I remember watching Jim Carrey’s – Small Heart at the Grinch in disbelief that a heart could shrink

My childish heart empty of hate, hurt and unbelief, there was always space a vast expanse like the galaxy

Shooting stars when I closed my eyes, showers of dancing colors only brought amazement

Inspiration for astrology or geology to investigate the fossils or meteorites

My mind’s eye like a telescope that made me from earth as a device for searching for proof of something more an extraterrestrial goddess

Over tics and tocs my telescope len was shattered by life’s spark plug obscured like a thousand bat swings to a windshield

The vastness of my heart, the third heaven of possibilities The North Star of my purpose disappears evaporates faded into nothingness, concrete circuit boards from a birds-eye view

Point of View

Buildings are reaching out asking for another chance, reminder to my heart of its yearnings to escape the crowded spaces that confine it

I stare in humility at a grey mixture of different minerals that compose the walls that prevent progress like an undocumented immigrant

I ask my heart and mind, How do I return, cross over? But they didn’t know, referred me to the soul the invisible giant always capable never conquerable always wishing and hoping, never doubting


At first I couldn’t grasp it, like a hand with no thumb, then I closed my eyes

I envisioned my former state, my place of infinite possibilities, a hurricane of former memories blew past the sturdy shack of my mind

As I slowly opened, I was floating, flying, gliding as high as the Empire State Building

So I Climb

Every day is hopeful, every word on paper is positive and every memory an ascension.

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