As the title suggests, this is a poem written from prison. I’ll share more information on the other side.
“The time that I’ve wasted is my biggest regret
Spent in these places I will never forget
Just sitting and thinking ‘bout the things that I’ve done
The crying, the laughing, the hurt and the fun
Now it’s just me and my hard driven guilt
Behind these walls of emptiness, I allowed to be built
I am trapped in my body just wanting to run
Back to my youth with its laughter & fun
But the chase is over and there’s no place to hide
Everything is gone, including my pride
With reality suddenly right in my face
I am scared, alone, and stuck in this place
Now memories of the past flash through my head
And the pain is obvious by the tears that I shed
I ask myself ‘Why?’ and where I went wrong
I guess I was weak when I should have been strong
Living for the drugs and the wings I had grown
My feelings were lost, afraid to be shown
As I look at my past it is so easy to see
The fear that I had was afraid to be me
I’d pretend to be rugged, so fast, and so cool
When actually I was lost like a blinded old fool
I am getting too old for this tiresome game
Of acting real hard with no sense of shame
It’s time that I change and get on with my life
Fulfilling my dreams for a family and wife
What my future will hold I really don’t know
But the years that I’ve wasted are starting to show
I just live for the day when I’ll get a new start
At the dreams that I hold deep in my heart
I hope I can make it; I at least have to try
Because I’m heading toward death, and I don’t want to die.”
THE AUTHOR:
Bobby was a man I supervised on probation in 2011-12. It took a while for us to connect on a level deeper than the typical corrections officer/client level because he brought an institutional mindset into our office most of the time. However, as we approached the end of his sentence, conversations became more meaningful, far beyond that of discussing compliance with court orders.
I knew that Bobby had previously served time in prison for a different crime, but what I learned toward the end of our time together was that he had an interest in writing poetry. Bobby had significant trust issues with people working in the system, so unfortunately for both of us, the opportunity to see the man… the human being, was something I didn’t get to experience until he finally realized he would complete probation successfully. He had his guard up often, and we had our battles with convincing him to complete all the court-ordered requirements… but once we crossed that line and he knew he would finish successfully, we were finally able to just talk… the man came out from behind the mask.
On one occasion toward the end of our time together, he brought to an office appointment a copy of the above poem. I was so touched by what I read from this hardened man that I asked permission to make a copy and I had him autograph it (the above picture). I still have that copy all these years later.
Sadly, Robert died within a few years of completing probation after battling cancer. I knew he had the diagnosis during our last few months together, so as I reflect on his words and the life I knew he led up to the end, it is sad to me that though he wanted much more from his life, he never gave himself the opportunity to chase after those things.
REFLECTING:
I am very aware I have not written a post for almost 4 months. I’ve been in a wrestling match with a side of me that I no longer want to be in charge of the outcomes that take place in my life. As I consider the many things that have been on my mind in recent months, I was reminded of Robert. He was in a real prison when he wrote this, but for many of us, the prisons we’ve built and resided in over our own lifetime may allow some of us to connect in some way to Robert’s words.
I may choose to write more about the prisons we construct in the coming days. I make no promise as the idea of getting on this laptop to write has been borderline adverse for me. I have had no problems with putting pen to paper in journaling, but I’ve had no desire to make the effort to put myself out there.
Enough about me! I want to end this with the spotlight on Robert. It’s been 15 years now since he and I had our regular monthly fights in my office in efforts to get him to follow court orders. I am thankful for all those fights because I am fully confident that the man I knew was authentically himself. He tried to impress no one… including me. He sucked up to no one… he attempted to manipulate no one. He was his own beautifully abrasive (at times) and authentic self. I honor him through posting his poem. He was a good soul underneath all that crap I had to tolerate.