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“The Night Before…”

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all throughout the prison
not a creature was stirring;
just paying the price for decades of old decisions.

The stockings were hung on makeshift clotheslines, for those who’d dare,
in hopes they’d dry in the nighttime circulated artificial air.

The inmates were all nestled, all locked in their beds,
while visions of freedom did dance in their heads.

Each in their brown t-shirts and state issued briefs,
while I, on the other hand, unable to sleep.

When out on the tier there arose a clatter,
I leapt from my bunk to see what was the matter.

The 10 – 6 shift CO, unlively and thick,
I knew in a second it wasn’t St. Nick.

While most still asleep throughout the compound,
just another day for many here living in browns.

On corrections officers, the occasional sergeant,
making sure the inmates are secure in their keep.

Pepper spray and handcuffs on the ready abound,
in plain sight while the officers do their rounds.

Along the top tier now, some changing their pace,
their eyes would wander as the count they did take.

The count lights came on, signaling the day,
excited in his love, to the Lord I do pray.

Standing to our feet, most without a cheer,
hoping others would be free no matter being in here.

I exclaimed in joy as the guards changed their shift,
Merry Christmas to all…we’ve been given a gift.

Happy Birthday Jesus Christ.

📬

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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