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Christopher, 42

Stories

Meet Christopher…

…My freedom appears to be a beautiful sunset on the horizon.

Incarcerated: 23 years
Housed: Graceville Correctional Facility

My freedom appears to be a beautiful sunset on the horizon and despite my trepidations, I am not fearful of seeing th “new world” which has obviously changed over the last two plus decades. There are many blessings in my life that I sometimes consider unearned. Friends and family who are awaiting my departure and offering various means of support. My brother Eric has already secured me a job making a decent wage for someone who’s been out of the workforce since 1999. He also has a car for me and is to relocate to a new home which has an extra bedroom. All of these efforts to see that my transition is wonderful, but there is one particular gift that stands above the norm. This gift presents something that only the incarcerated or formerly incarcerated can truly appreciate. My friend of more than 23 years, Rachel has invited me on a cross-country trip that ends in the state of Oregon! She is looking to resettle. She’s a natural born New Yorker. As a single mom whose only son is preparing to take the reins of his life and move out on his own, Rachel wants to explore and find a new home. She wants me of all people to go with her! She recently told me that “There isn’t any other person in my life that I’d rather travel with than you.” I am humbled. Whether I am truly the best person for this endeavor with Rachel will soon be determined. The one truth I can proclaim without any doubt is that seeing the country for the first time after decades of confinement is the closest one can be to heaven on Earth and my travel companion must be an ‘angel in disguise!

Angel, 42

Stories

Meet Angel…

…My time here is coming to an end. I’ve survived it all, and now freedom is within reach. I feel as though this is all I’ve ever known. I wonder if it will ever be out of my system. I’ve refused to let prison make me or shape me, I’ve stayed un-institutionalized.

Incarcerated: 22 years
Housed: Fluvanna Correctional Facility, Troy, Virginia

Survivors

Once we’re born, we struggle to survive in many different ways. We start by scooting in order to move around, and then we start to crawl. Before too long we’re off running. Sometimes we run to nowhere, sometimes everywhere, but other times we run for our life. We run to get away. We all perceive things differently, so often we don’t see or comprehend what the situation is teaching us. We just think the world is out to get us. Some stay on top of the water, scared to get wet, while others will get in, but then doggy paddle through. Few of us venture into the water’s depth to see what’s really there.

We are all united by pain and love. They don’t differentiate between races or cultures. They speak the same language. We were created by God to live, to learn and to enjoy life, but most of us continued to take everything for granted. Yes, most of us have known the hands or words of hatred, bigotry, racism or abuse of some kind.

That doesn’t mean there isn’t a God or that He doesn’t care. God gave us all free will, and with evil roaming the earth, it, unfortunately, corrupts people’s minds, but God gives us the strength to survive, not to be anyone’s victims.

We are survivors who couldn’t be broken so we can share our stories and save the life of someone else who’s unable to see the light through the darkness. We all feel alone sometimes, but we’re not just reaching out a hand. Someone is there. So spread your wings and fly. It’s ok.

You are a survivor.

Grief and Pain, I’d like to let people know that there are people here who do understand. That there is a light in the darkness. I’d like to thank you for the opportunity to submit work.

Freedom

Freedom is such a simple word, yet it stands for so much more. People fight wars for freedom. People escape countries for it. As for myself, I didn’t realize the special gift it was until I got locked up. I was in a prison cell at the age 20, when I realized I’d been in prison all my life. I’d suffered abuse at the hands of the ones who were meant to love and protect me. I didn’t realize the shackles my mind wore from it all. I didn’t like the person I saw in the mirror. I learned the hard way that no one could love me if I didn’t love myself first. I also quickly saw that I didn’t respect myself or know my worth. I hadn’t been taught any principles or values that parents are supposed to teach you.

I started a long journey of fixing and repairing broken pieces, trying to break free. My time here is coming to an end. I’ve survived it all, and now freedom is within reach. I feel as though this is all I’ve ever known. I wonder if it will ever be out of my system. I’ve refused to let prison make me or shape me, I’ve stayed un-institutionalized. I look forward to being really free, but everyone takes things for granted. To me, freedom means so much, but actually being free from even the chains of my mind will be a taste of heaven I’ve never known.

My first day out, I want real food, a nice shower to wash the prison away, to walk around without shackles or an officer, to watch the stars as they come out and breathe in the fresh air of freedom. I stand strong and healthy knowing I’m wonderfully made by God, who loves me and who I now know intimately. I will walk out these gates as a woman of God, a woman of worth and a survivor, I walk into freedom.

Eddie, 61

Eddie, 61

Stories

Meet Eddie…

…Every day, I know that I’m the one to blame, I see the picture clearly now. Stand strong, firm and solid, and I’ll defeat this maze. I’ll come back to you, my silent one.

Incarcerated: 17 years

No Longer In A Daze
I strapped on metal boots and used lives as my shield for false love. It started with hate and disillusion. It was my role regardless of my feelings. I swore to shed no tears. Then, I came to need someone kind. I had run everyone away, but noticed she was there. Standing behind but there just the same, a stranger in my life although I knew her name. She never said a word, just stood within my life. She was silent as a leaf in the night.

She told me who she was and I thought about the past. When I was hurt, broken by my faith, confused and caught up in hate. A hole appeared and dropped me in a daze. Now that I’m awake, I’m deep within this maze called prison. But just as we were talking, which I rarely do, I noticed something shining out from her. She was always there, standing lovely at my side, waiting for me to lose the life of phony pride. As I stood alone she reached out with her arms, wrapped me with her love, and gave me all her charm.

I had this need to share with her the things I knew were wrong. Searching for a route, a way back in time, when for that special moment, this woman was truly mine. In some strange way, she’s always with me each and every day. When I was blind and couldn’t see, I want her to know, I saw how much she cared. I know you are patiently waiting for me to solve this maze they call prison. Then, we’ll get our future back. Every day, I know that I’m the one to blame, I see the picture clearly now. Stand strong, firm and solid, and I’ll defeat this maze. I’ll come back to you, my silent one.
No longer in a daze.

 

Read Eddie's Poetry
Scott’s Gallery

Scott’s Gallery

Art from Inside

Artist Scott, 51…

I started drawing in the county jail in 1996 to help maintain some sanity. I found that drawing allowed me to manage what I was thinking about. I would focus more on the image and less on my predicament and isolation as I ended up spending 2 years in jail before ultimately being found guilty of Second-Degree Murder. 

Between 1998 and 2004, while in prison, I taught myself to draw, portraits for the other incarcerated men. When I got here to SQ in 2004, I was able to shift to painting through the Arts in Corrections program. While in this program I would meet Mr. Patrick Maloney who taught me to see art as a tool for problem-solving and how doing so would allow me to express myself in a positive way, giving me a voice and helping me give back to society and my community. 

Through Arts in Corrections I started a mural crew that beautified the very walls that confined us, bringing a positive to what the incarcerated perceived as a negative. 

Looking back at who I was before art I see an angry, fractured and intense person needing attention, to be heard and to be noticed. For me, art encompasses these feelings in a way that does not hurt people but transforms the experience for both the artist and the viewer and enhances our lives instead of damaging them. Making art was the beginning of my rehabilitation and the introduction to who I have become. 

Enjoy Scott's Story
Raul, 46

Raul, 46

Stories

Meet Raul…

..When officers learn to dehumanize people they become desensitized to basic conditions in them: fear, hope, want and sorrow. We cannot allow ourselves to be viewed as non-entities.

Incarcerated: 17 years

Lucky went by ‘Luck’ to his friends. He only had three, on account of Lucky being a grouch. It took guts to be grouchy in a level four prison. He was already knee deep into a life term in 2005 at Pleasant Valley State Prison in California’s central valley. There were only three things important to Lucky: cigarettes, tobacco and smoke in his lungs. He kept to himself. The prison would be implementing a tobacco cessation, which meant Lucky would have to learn how to live without his life-giving smoke.

Late one morning, an inmate from God-knows-where arrived and moved into cell 107 with Lucky. Only he could tell you what went on in there. But instead of locking it up for count, he went to the tower and told the correctional officer on duty he was refusing to be housed with Lucky. She told him to “Shut up and go inside.” He didn’t. After a brief back and forth, he told her that if she forced him to lock up with Lucky, he was going to “Kill him.”

Those were his exact words. Again, the officer told him to shut up and go inside. This time he did. For unknown reasons the building was locked up all that afternoon. They did run a brief dayroom hour, nobody noticed that Lucky wasn’t there. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility to think that correctional kept cell 107 closed on purpose.

That night, officers did their rounds to count bodies. We were all accounted for. In the morning, before breakfast was served we were all taken out of our cells and led outside in nothing but our boxers and shower shoes. I walked past 107 and noticed the door ajar. I saw as I passed, the lifeless body of Lucky draped across the top bunk. He had been choked to death since the afternoon before. When officers learn to dehumanize people they become desensitized to basic conditions in them: fear, hope, want and sorrow. We cannot allow ourselves to be viewed as non-entities. But the struggle for liberation from oppression includes liberating the oppressors.

When we fight against them we create an additional cycle thus digging ourselves deeper into the problem. The solution lies in sensitizing them. Compassion and love will always win. 📸Sister Eva

 

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