(Suzette Soltero wrote the following poem while visiting her ex-husband who is serving 28 years and has completed 18 so far):

Suzette with her ex-husband

The trip is dreadful, lots of trees pretty houses and women with children in a van going to visit loved ones that have been away in “confined quarters.”

Long roads with minimal lights & cars while still dark outside everyone trying to make themselves comfortable trying to sleep until their arrival and the driver calls out the facility’s name.

Writing information on a piece of paper, informing who you are.

Lockers holding belongings that aren’t permitted while you walk thru scanners hoping you don’t ring.

Florecent number stamping on the right hand slamming heavy doors bob-wires tall walls blue uniforms w/badges some w/hard faces others more relaxed greet you.

Escorted walks assigned seats & bells ringing while grown men in green come out the designated door giving a quick hello while they walk to check in.

Hugs, kisses, hand shakes, pounds, happy eyes, big smiles change for the vending machines singles for pics which capture the days visit five hours of conversation, memories, hopes & dreams children crying, playing happiness sadness – emotions, feelings all trapped in the visit room guarded by those blue uniforms w/badges as they look at every movement that is done.

The clock ticks & times flies & the moment to depart approaches like a thief in the night.

Emptiness fills the room as everyone prepares for that moment.  Children pull their daddy’s crying saying “let’s go” for they don’t understand.  Mothers, wives, girlfriends, significant others try to be strong as they say goodbye not to make the men in the green feel worse but emptiness fills the room.

A too familiar feeling as those heavy doors open & close behind you you feel as half your soul in left and entwined with the bob-wires handing the paper back getting your belongings & boarding the van again to see those long roads with minimal lights & a few more cars filling the highway.

All you remember is the smile try to rewind the moment you spend as you look at the picture breathing it all in until you feel it in your heart closing your eyes thinking, wondering what does the man in green feel right at that very moment.

Maybe one day your soul will be untwined & you will feel whole again but for now all you have to look forward too is “THE VISIT!”

i desperately want freedom.
i perspire to cool myself off
from the heat of being imprisoned
by mental bars and walls.
the correctional officers are clocks
and the keys on their waists go
tic…toc…tic…toc
as they walk down D-block.

“Who we rep?!”
“Diligence…”

“Who we rep?!”
“Disappointment…”

“Who we rep?!”
“Determination…”

“Who we rep?!”
“Damnation…”

we waste away our youth in jail cells
and tattoo our dreams on ourselves
for days when we’re not feeling well
so we can look down at our skin
to remember the inspiration within.
sometimes pictures are all we have
because our commissary consists mainly of
could have, should have, and would have
which keeps our stomachs empty.

why oh why
is time working against me?
the judge gave me 15 to life and sometimes
i fear i’ll be a prisoner until
i can retire at 65.
the other day a lifer laughed at me
and said i’ll never get out
and i shook my head and smiled.
he doesn’t know that when the lights go out,
i stay up and plot my escape.
one day they’ll wake up
and i will be traveling far, far away.
i’ll shed these prison clothes
and today will be yesterday.

Solitude (click image to enlarge)

REMINDER: DEADLINE TO ENTER IS DEC. 1, 2008

People who have an incarcerated family member naturally cycle through a range of difficult emotions as the years slowly pass. Some express their sadness, anxiety and fear or hope for the future through art, music or poetry.

To honor that great artwork, Family Life behind Bars is launching its inaugural Annual Arts Celebration & Competition.You are invited to enter the artwork you have produced that reflects the emotions you are feeling during your loved one’s incarceration. (more…)