Inside to Outside: Two New Poems

Here are two poems by a young inmate who is eager to learn. She has chosen the name L.P.

The Storm

It's cold. I'm fearless.

The wind blows, I

scream. The lightening

strikes. I fight

back. Now I ask

myself what's going

to happen. Shhhhh.

If only I knew.

Inside Out

Smile more.

Talk more.

Even laugh.

Your beauty

comes from

the inside out...

Keep smiling

even when your

days are hard.

Talk more, even

when it seems

impossible. Laugh

when it's in your

heart and always

remember the beauty

comes from 

the inside out.

Changing Seasons

Wow, it's been way too long since anything new has been written here. A new season is coming. Summer is just about over. It's been a very hot one, rainy in the beginning which has definitely ended a four year drought in the area. But, there have been many, many other changes as well. Life in prison--and even in the world--is like that. Full of change. Seasons.

We have to learn to be flexible. A key word: Flexibility.

Among changes at the prison and the need for flexibility is the disbanding of The Authors Club. The leader, Goldilocks, was transferred. It's interesting that in the last blog I gave Goldilocks a lot of thanks. Her leadership was excellent. The discipline she brought to the group helped many--myself included--to create and produce. I am delighted to see there have been almost 5,000 viewings of this site.

Creative writing still goes on, of course, but in different ways: through a small activity group, by individuals who bring poems and stories to be read and filtered for posting here. Two follow by a new writer on her way out into the world, Let's Duck. I wish her the best.

I also hope to be more faithful with this blog.

Until next time, here are two poems by Let's Duck.

Stuck Within

In my mind 

I am not able to get out

Just a matter of time 

before my clock runs out

When I open my mouth 

nothing comes out

My luck is running out

I show no signs of wanting to get out

Just wishing one day the door will unlock

Crowds of thoughts take over my view

I am interlocked with my own view

Allowing me to be stuck within

Feeling comfortable with myself 

Just being

I just keep remaining 

Stuck within

Be...

Be 

Whatever it is you want

Stay focused 

Be strong

Maintain 

Just be

Truth, Creativity and Patience

This summer's intense heat is subsiding. The cool rooms of the education wing still draw the women who are serious about improving their lives. The Authors Club has been especially busy, inducting new members, editing each other's work and giving account for production of new material, This blog includes writing produced from weekly subject prompts, "The Truth," "Why we Create," and "When Patience Pays Off." Some of the writing is poetry, some is prose. The group is led by an inmate writing under the pen name Goldilocks. She does an amazing job, is always prepared with a challenge for the writers-and, in the midst of all this, she has managed to write over 25 books, some self-published and others with publishing companies.

THE TRUTH

Do you know the truth? Do you

know life is a living hell

being trapped by my own thoughts,

people don't know who I am-

but they want to judge, so busy

checking me, they forget about their 

own problems. Do you know the truth? 

I ask myself these questions

while the world is upside down

Yeah, I do. I know people

hate when they can't be me.

I feel the fake love they try

to send me  

Topsy Turvy

What is the truth? 

Is the truth a lie or vice versa?

Is my life true?

Can anything be true?    

By Forgiveness

The truth is the only thing

you can change that will

stay the same according to

its consistency              

By Christian Knight

Did you know I am perfect?

Did you know I never make mistakes?

I am hated by none and loved

by everyone.

Just ask me, I know everything.

I am 8 feet tall, bulletproof 

and faster than lightening.

I am a famous supermodel.

I am a sniper for the CIA.

I invented the smartphone, internet

and the personal computer.

I never tell a lie.

OK. OK. The truth is really

I am not perfect. I do make mistakes.

I am not loved by everyone, but who is?

I do not know everything.

I am just 5' 4" and mortal.

I am not a famous supermodel, sniper

or inventor.

I try not to lie.

The truth is I am human.     

By Nayana

How do you know the truth?

Can you prove it is the truth?

If you can't prove it,

Then it must not be the truth.

Therefore, truth only exists

in your mind.                     

By Butterfly

There's a mantra that states,

"The truth will set you free."

Will it?

A diminutive fabrication sometimes

permits you to be set free.

So they say...

Veracity occasionally incriminates you

and people cast judgement without

getting all the niceties.

Guilty or not?

Honesty sent me to gaol for a

wrongdoing that I did not enact.

Here I lay...

We all seem to have a belief

surrounding the truth.

Don't we?

With all this being said my mantra

is "the truth is overrated."

If it can be found...         

 By Precious Child

The shackles of deceit were invisible

Like, "One nation under God, indivisible"-

a slave to ear-friendly lies

fat-free fries

stable butterflies

temporary goodbys

Fantasy is embraced in captivity

The hope against reality

But the truth shall set us free- indeed!

By Alto Saxophone

What is the truth? Your truth is not my

truth, so what is truth? I don't know your

truth, but my truth is admittance, acceptance,

and responsibility.

My truth sets me free from bondage, denial &

captivity of the heart, soul & mind.

My truth is liberation on the inside.

Does your truth set you free?

By Logic

The truth is absolute & definite. The truth is

fact w/o reasoning. The truth frees

as well as binds. The truth joins 

enemies, yet separates the best of friends.

The truth allows one to confront the past

while realistically facing future limits.

The truth is Christ's strength being perfected

in failure. The truth is all you can

be when you truly believe in yourself.

The truth simply is...truth. 

By RedempTshann

The truth is no one really know why we are here. Of course, I feel a higher power. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to see that we have a Creator. The Creator gave us the ocean, sky, art, and a planet that gives birth to all our needs to stay alive. So enjoy what's been given to you. Relax in the moment- for it may be your last.              By Dragonfly

There's no way to go around

to go over

to go under

the truth...the facts...

or sincerity of allowing a person the chance to make a decision of forgiving, healing, staying or leaving the situation when being upfront. I mean let's identify, not rationalize the reality that a lot of folks- both men and women- would rather be lied to, manipulated, than to face and accept what's directly before their eyes. It is obvious the individual that utters those lies actually believes the words that escape their vocal cords.

My question is, "Why be a coward behind lies and dishonesty?" as if the lies will not entrap you and entangle you inside your own prison? You cannot outrun or escape the truth. Truth is defined as reality, real facts. Either you're real or you're a fraud! 

Truth be told to lie is to sacrifice what you hold closest to your heart. 

Look in the mirror and drop the fictitious mask. 

Allow people to see the real you. 

The truth is in trusting someone, 

especially when you trust nothing, 

not even yourself.

By Knowledge

The truth can't bend nor fold.

By La Dona

The truth

eludes me

Objective

Subjective

Your truth

My truth

Absolute truth

You hide

in the recesses

of my mind

in the secret chambers

of my soul

You hide 

in the illusion

around me

You hide

so I'll pursue you

You tease me

occasionally 

peeping your face

out at me

from obscurity

winking an eye

hiding again

like a persistent lover

I chase my beloved

I taste the kiss

of truth 

on my lips

I hunger for more

his love

his truth

insatiable

I'll seek him

until I find him

and make him

completely mind.

By La Luz

WHY WE CREATE

Why I create

is to release some of this information

before I break,

learn as I grow

because

I grow as I learn.

The fire in my mind blows

the ashes of old ignorance burned.

The more I know the easier to mold

soft clay that I play with

as my life experiences unfold.

Humbled by time

as the best of me unwinds,

Age opens my eyes leaving me

no longer blind.

I express these lessons

in deceptive confession

as poems, pictures in books written.

I bleed ever precious portions

of this ever evolving me.

By HA Na Na

We create because we are created

The divine image in each face

hand, eye, foot

making the world

"Let there be..."

And there is

Everlasting

In my pencil, my words

making

By Summer's

I was created to create

co-creator of life

I recreate the old

imagine: dream the new

I create things differently

that  you...

I create to leave a memory

I create so others can know me

I create to be unique

Why do I?

Because I can

I have the ability

I have the power

I have the mind

to create!

By Logic

We create to exist where words speak more than actions.

We create from our soul's inner inhabitations.

We create poetry so that our thoughts, feelings, dreams can be expressed.

Words form definitions from inside our inner depths.

We create music, the sweetest of songs, of melodies, because music

without words is just notes upon a blank sheet.

We create novels, short stories, just like a singer sings the blues:

it's cyanide to our health if it's not shared.

Our creation is the new evolution to a world striving for originality.

We create because it's a part of who we are. 

Who other to be than a creator, motivator, rebuilding a foundation?

The words that flow from our pens are just a sample of pure gratification.

If we did not create

how could you stand?

How could you speak?

It would be a treacherous world.

To create is to be unique.

By Knowledge

We create

to express

thoughts and emotions

to live

our passions, desires and dreams

to provide

beauty and entertainment

to share

a part of our lives with another

to shape

the world we live in

to enhance

others' lives

We create

because we live

By Butterfly

We create to start a trinity, whether it be fashion, music, or books. Along with that trinity we create different themes and styles to stand out! Creation is reproduction; we have to reproduce to keep up with the rest of the world. But, I create because I want to be different from the rest of the world. I create to show my uniqueness and what sets me apart from the regular. I alone can create my fantasy and my destiny.

By Maat Hotep

We use art, lyrics and writing

as different forms of expression.

Showing our paintings welcomes

our inner selves to be produced;

singing songs, rapping and playing

instruments permits us to show 

our feelings and the depth of our true emotions;

short stories, novels and poetry

holds our  most valuable skill- imagination.

Everybody wants to be known

for their originality.

We all possess some type of art,

skill or knowledge to depict.

With these attributes, creation is used

as a form of expression.

By Precious Child

I create as my creator created me. My trust lies in the safety of that process. I create to express myself. It's how I communicate best. Slightly neurotic and self-conscious to a fault, with feelings of inferiority mixed with an introverted personality, I crave the existence of an extrovert.

I feel safe in creating. It is a reflection of my mind. My mind is where I live. Creating is the safety net that allows me to explore life outside of me. I become free to live.

When I create I just do. I don't feel the agonizing scrutiny of others nor do I feel that vulnerable nakedness when I am in the state of creating. I can just be me.

Creating is where I find who I am and what I am truly capable of. Creating allows me to find myself.

I create to feel at home; to feel and express my heart. it is how I choose to interact with the world at large. In creating, I promote and allow all events in my life.

By Christian Soldier

We create to make the world a better place. It is an art that clears our minds for vivid imagination. It allows us to relieve intense and heavy workloads that we sometimes feel mandated to do. 

We create to focus our efforts on positive and productive projects. Being a voice as well as being a listener can help create a better mind and inspiring being.

We create to understand and to be understood. I've realized that some experiences help shape the journey we endure.

We create to see beauty and share our inspiration. It is often used to hide a heart-wrenching pain and disappointment.

There is a strong possibility that we create to help change the future. I'm pleased with the transformation I've created to move forward in life.   By Goldilocks

I create to inspire. 

To inspire those who want to feel their emotions,

To take them beyond their imaginable dreams.

By Luda

It is my theory that God created man in His image. 

We must create as we are a reflection of His creative nature. 

It comes naturally.

Is anything we create only an impostor, 

a recreation of what has already been done? 

I believe we create as we are created. 

Creating runs in our blood.

By Christian Knight

The reason why I create is because for so long I didn't like my future nor my past. I figured  that the only way for me to be happy is if I created my own future and past. So I create what I would have liked my past to be, and what I would like my future to be.

I have the power to make anything happen when I'm writing. I create my own happiness and my own destiny.

I create because it frees me from the things that I can't change in my own personal life.

The only freedom I have that no one can take from me is the power I have over my creations.

By La Dona

Why do we create? The simple answer to that question is because we can. However, the truth is deeper than that. I write because my stories won't leave me alone. They run around inside my head until I write them down.

I asked a friend why she writes and she said, "To prove I am not just another face in the crowd. Also, so I don't feel so alone in the world." This is true, too. In our writings we create worlds in which we are not alond. We become gods or our imagined worlds. Like it or not, we make the tough decisions in our worlds: who lives, who dies, who's happy, who's sad.

Maybe we create in order to give ourselves the illusion of control. We like to have control and our most creative times are when we are not in control of our lives.

So, why do we create? Ask a hundred people and you'll get a hundred answers. Why do you create meals for your family? Why do you create a home?   By Nayana

I feel the need to create because I was created. The imagination, to me, has no limits. These images are stuck still in time. Creation allows me to escape my conscious state and enter into a peaceful place of invention, of opportunity. Creation helps me align my sanity in an insane environment. Creation allows me to have out of body experiences and gives me an intimate connection with my higher power. It allows me to fearlessly ride the current of this wave length in the spiritual universe. It's a direct path to my soul, my intuition. Creation is the essence of my identity. It allows my mind to stay open.   By Faith Reason

I  create for several reasons, one being that I personally can go anywhere I want to go and be anyone or anything; The second reason is for my readers to bring forth in their lives realizations or fantasies that will make them express many different emotions- whether it's love, hate...or different views from different angles. By creating we can recreate the world from many depths. We can become aliens! We can fly like birds! We can become President!

We can even be water that flows through the cracks of a broken bridge to get to the other side. We can feel the warmth of the water that the sun shines upon...   By Dragonfly

We believe that God is the Divine Creator

Maker of all things

We believe that God lives within us

We believe that we have a divine inspiration

And commission to create

Carrying forth an eternal purpose

That goes beyond our mortal flesh

We believe that each time we create

We are both totally human 

And totally divine

We are spiritual artists

Transcending the black voids

Of stagnancy

Into vivid colors of newness

We change the world

When we create

We escape the world

When we create

We die within the world

When we create

And like God in flesh

We are resurrected

When we create

We were formed and created

Thus we must create

Creations create

When moved by the divine

We create because

That is exactly what God

Created us to be

By Alto Saxophone

WHEN PATIENCE PAYS OFF

I was waiting all the while I had somewhere to be. I didn't know where I had to be yet, only that I felt I had to be there. So I waited. What was I waiting for? Who was I waiting on? Where was the sense of direction that seemed to be so intuitively ingrained from birth in everyone else? What was I going to do with my life? 

I spent 40 years doing nothing but waiting and wondering until I made myself sit down and diligently pen my story from beginning to end making no excuses. That was when I realized I wasn't waiting any more. I had finally showed up! I would take the torch that would make my own life burn bright. My patience paid off the moment I gave myself permission to write, in that I found the direction of my life's heart.   By Christian Knight

Everyone wants to be understood. I find this to be true after 17 years of confinement. Sad to say, I mostly want to be heard and there are few who will take the time to listen. But for those with the patience to listen to other, it is sure to pay off.

Because of those willing to listen to me I began to grow into a beautiful woman, in spite of my very toxic environment. These concerned souls affected me in such a manner that I have chosen to love people above all else.

For me, patience is taking your time to try to understand another person, their views, what they've been going through, along with their likes and dislikes.

Over the years I've gained a reputation that isn't bad. This good reputation I was unaware of for some years until I came across this young lady who insisted I was one of the "good sisters." Oh, I laughed and laughed- for a while.

Later, I could not keep that silly notion out of my head. Me? A good sister? My first thought after I'd pondered over this laughable statement was anger for my definition of "good sister" was one that I did not like: the too good, do gooders, people who were not really good at all, people who were afraid of the bigger bad people. They'd hide behind some religious teaching, often being granted some measure of control and immunity from prison bullies. Na, that wasn't me!

As time went on, I realized that people often come to me with questions, seeking advice, including one lady who stayed in her room 98% of the time. I noticed that the bullies sent the "Yes, Ma'am's" to me, the ones who could claim no alliance to any sides, sects or gangs. I became the one who chose love, the one who intended to listen, who loved to talk and to stand on what it was I believed in, the one who runs into more hugs and smiles these days- and no fights.

This ideal shows that patience pays off: this was 10 years of my life. We decide how our lives will be. We affect all those around us.   By HA Na Na

When patience pays off

I hope this world is a better place

Seeing all the hurt and pain

in so many people's lives

leaves me feeling 

like I have nothing to gain

They say patience is a virtue

but how can that be when everyone

around you is rushing you?

I can't be patient when I feel

like the world is passing me by

I can't be still as time

continues to fly

I won't stand by and continue

to watch my family die

I don't have patience for a world

that doesn't have patience for me

So when patience pays off

I won't be waiting:

I'm not patient enough

to keep waiting.

By La Dona

I searched with vigilance 

to find the truth within this reality

So much of my search

was filled with tears of sand

and with tears of alcohol

I burned, then scratched

then burned and I did so repeatedly

until the habit was formed

In the essence of longing

for better ways to expel my emotions

I cut deep into the root

of my very own demise.

I hurt!

The pain of grieving

the beauty of all sorrows

had weighed me down

into a fiery ball 

of craziness

Delusional

I began talking to myself

in a tone of voice

that scared the shit 

out of me

I'd say things like

"Girl, get over it" 

or

"It coulda been worse"

and my all time favorite

"Let go. Let God."

God who?

God when?

God what?

I laughed and truly

found humor because

in this reality

I'd said the truth,

"Let go. Let God."

Ever since I let God

have control

things have been different

The smile is in my heart

I smile for reasons

that no one knows

A smile that shows a beauty

that through vigilance

still provokes joy.

By Daidem

I waited for him

Anticipating his next move

As I gazed at Mother Nature

There were trees and plants

Leaves and dewdrops

But he could not be tracked 

I even listened to

The ticking of his essence

Yet his movement was outpacing

My reverent stillness and awareness

Oh, Mother Nature, I began to plead

Why has he not stopped to notice me?

And Mother Nature glimpsed

My graying hair and soft wrinkles

Aimed a response at my curiosity and said

Your Father Time has kept you at his die

And will race you through Eternity

Thank you for noticing me

By Alto Saxophone

She is my best friend

Through these past twenty years

She's been holding my hand

She insists I avoid

Rushing

Quick solutions

Her wise words

I practice

No matter how I must toil

She leads the way

Showing me every careful step

"Time is my friend," she says

With Patience

I'll win in the end

By La Luz

"I need more patience," I ask the Most High

"Here it is." He hold His hand out.

Born into life with questions

Trying to take life as it comes

One foot in the door

Quickly being pushed back

Anger and rage set in

Two feet in now, playing hardball

Hands touch my innocence

Sadness and sorrow sing their song

My hands and feet are planted

in loose soil

Sinking into a deep depression

Only on this earth a decade

Death takes over

Devouring every life given to me

Mommy, Daddy, who else can I run to?

Chains and bars take the forefront

Suffocating me inside

I ask God, "Why?"

He says, "You asked for patience.

I prepared you. You are trained in pain.

Look at you now. You are free.

Your patience within

brought you through."

By Forgiveness

In today's world we are always in a hurry. We text while we drive down the interstate. We multi-task while we talk on the phone. No one gives anything their full attention any more. We need to slow down. Did you notice the flowers growing in your front yard today? No? Why not? Were you looking up information on your smart phone? Did you notice the way your spouse divided his attention between you and the football game on TV? Sure, you did. It affects you. But did you notice how much you listened to your child when she told you about her day at school? What are her friends' names? Oh, you were too busy preparing that frozen dinner? What a shame. 

Think back. Do you remember when you were a kid? Didn't you enjoy cooking with your mom? How about playing games or cards with the family? You did? I'm not surprised, I did too. My mom was busy too. So was my dad. But, they weren't always in a hurry. They took time for me. As a result, my mom is my hero. My dad was my rock, the light of my world. My mom is my #1 role model. Don't you want your children to look up to you? Don't you want your spouse to pay attention? Of course you do. 

Slow down. Be patient. Pay attention. You'll get it. Smell the flowers sometimes. I promise it's worth it when your spouse looks at you and smiles and says, "I love you." You'll believe me when your child runs to you for a hug, smiles and says, "Thank you." You'll know it's worth it.

My mom has been waiting eleven years, so far, for me to come home. In one more year her patience will pay off. When that day comes I will run to her, hug her and say, "Thanks, mom. You never gave up on me. Your love has been my strength. You helped me through from the beginning to the end. I love you."   By Nayana

You'll know when Patience has paid off in my life

That's the day when I'll shine brighter than the Aurora Borealis

My days will glide by faster than water slides

Patience had better pay off.

Heck, I've been waiting impatiently for eight years

To see the light at the ind of the tunnel

called Prison.

If Patience doesn't pay me

I'll keep messing with Impatience

Impatience and I get along just fine

I keep hoping and praying for the day

When I'll get out, get rich, travel

And have a Kim Kardashian body

I impatiently attempt to work on those goals on my own

Because I refuse to patiently wait for them

Patience hasn't paid me anything

So, why should I put out?

I know it's sad I'm charging for a response

But in today's society and this new economy

I have no choice

I'm giving it how it's given to me

You treat me like I'm supposed to wait on you

Patience, you never come through.

Never come through.

I tell you what

If you don't give me what I want

When I want it

Then I'll just keep Impatience right here

That's right, I'll keep your wife until you pay me off

Impatience belongs to me!

If you want her back

You know what to do

By Tikalicious

Patience is the painful virtue

Translated in the suffering of us all

Waiting is the hardest part

The morning that brings joy

Is a sunrise over the darkness of despair

And the harvest of its dawn cultivated

By sweat insomnia, fear and tears

When it breaks, it breaks over the broken

The weary, the woeful

Bright as new day

Caught between the wet lashes

Of your crying eyes

Hope is real and everything then realized

The Dying gives us life

The forgetting helps us to remember

The weariness makes us stronger than before

Morning comes

We wait no more

By Summer's

Who hasn't been told that Patience is a virtue?

Or that kindness can go an extra mile or two?

We've all had constant ups and downs

We've all have experienced the feeling 

of wearing our hearts inside out

Yet determination determine perspective

And change is a part of life

Patience pays off, just don't you lose sight

of this life that can take you to the left

and back to the right

Forks in the road? Don't back down

Stand and fight. Back up. Regroup

Try it again. In this life Patience pays off

Believe me, there are no deadends

Keep pushing on

By Knowledge

When patience pays off, you find

a place of rest. No more hustle

and bustle around completing

the task. Tense emotions are soothed

Relaxation is your new best friend

As you enjoy the bountiful fruit

of your harvest, you can begin

to sow new seeds on freshly

plowed ground.

By Faith Reason

That dang dog kept me up for the last time. I mean, what is it about those people who love their dogs so much they put the itsy-bitsy foo foo with the annoying bark outside right as the sun goes down? Maybe, they don't want little foo foo to interrupt their beauty rest. They'd much rather wake their cranky neighbor. Trust me, I am NOT the one to wake up after 10PM with foo-foo's pleas to unlatch the doggy door. Not after six java-javas, seventeen work hours and an ongoing incoming email list. 

I began to journal. That's what my psychologist, Dr. Warren, said to do. That's right, I'm journaling about that terrible mutt. Who's going to judge me on the four hundred sixty-eighth day, fourteenth hour and twenty-ninth minute of that hell-ridden dog's barking? Would you like some BARK tea? Or how about watching some BARK television? No? No? So how about I take the BARK BARK rifle and shoot the BARK BARK BARK out of that idiot dog?  "Breathe," Dr. Warren says. 

As soon as I inhale real sharply, BAM. I run to the window. That sound. It couldn't have been what I thought it was. Not that sweet sound from Heaven. Yes! Oh, yes, it was. The street sweeper dragging foo foo ten blocks. Oh, how patience pays off.   By Royalty

It is not every day that Tyler Perry or James Patterson are giving shout outs to new aspiring writers- though it would be a very nice honor considering that many of us would like to be as good or greater. I choose to be me, my best, not the circumstances.

As an aspiring writer I had to learn what being patient meant. Becoming a published author doesn't, and didn't, happen over night. It took 18 years of incarceration, change of thinking, determination, being used, several rejections, about five books later and another three years before a publisher accepted my manuscripts.

Patience pays off. When you believe in your dreams and chase them down, Patience pays off. I did just that. Within a four year period, I have penned 28 books, with 15 of them published. Once I read, "a new challenge will unlock a new mind-set." I know that "Faith is sure of what we hope for, certain of what we do not see." Hebrews 11.1    By Goldilocks

Erik Erikson and More Scabies, More Babies, and More

My sincere apologies for not blogging more often. Once again, a very hot summer here in the South and all over the United States, it seems. A second and third outbreak of scabies at the prison in a year required classes to be cancelled and everything to be shut down, especially for volunteers like me. Lockdowns seem to happen on Wednesdays, the very day my meetings with the women are scheduled.

Babies in the family are being born and it is wonderful to think of a whole new generation springing up. Visits from family as well. All these things happen in freedom, reminding me of those behind bars who are not free to enjoy them. Most of the women have children who are being formed without a mother's day to day presence in their lives. These are who we should be most concerned about.

There are lots of organizations who reach out to children of inmates, a worthy endeavor that won't be forgotten and much appreciated. Recently one woman was beaming as she told me of a visit on her birthday from her husband and children. I don't know what she did to wind up in prison. As I know her name, I could find out, but don't want to. Have you ever heard of something called Self-fulfilling Prophecy?

Teachers know that when a child enters the classroom he or she needs to not be judged by what their brother or sister before them did, or what scores showed up on tests or, even, what other teachers say. Each child needs a fresh start--otherwise your opinions based on what happened before becomes a Self-fulfilling Prophecy. It's a good rule to apply in life, don't you think? We can hope that as this new school year begins teachers will not negatively judge the integrity of the child whose parents is incarcerated.

It reminds me of some good advice given years ago. The giver said, "If you want to get along with your spouse or others, remember the F. B. I." F. B. I. is a little way of remembering the words, Family, Body and Integrity. What is meant is that if we make comments on another person's family, body or integrity, there is nothing they can answer back, except in defense. Think about it. What can we do about the families we are born into? They are what they are. We can leave our families and begin our own in a new place as many of our ancestors did. But, mainly, we try to learn how to get along because we all need a sense of family.

Our bodies? Well, we can gain or lose weight, if needed, but other than that or plastic surgery, our bodies are the vessels we have to learn to live in and be comfortable with. So, you can see that any negative comment about them will be very hurtful. Some of the most beautiful people I know are not what the world would call beautiful.

How about our integrity? Intergrity is defined as "uprightness of character, honesty. the condition, state or quality of being complete or undivided." If someone attacks our integrity, what can we do about it? We can only remain silent unless we risk becoming angry and losing our tempers.

In getting together with the women to write, we talk about Erik Erikson's Stages of Development. Erikson was a wonderful and long-lived man, with both a scientific and artistic outlook on life. Because of his long life he was able to observe in himself and others general stages of life. I would recommend doing a bit of online research and thinking about what he has to say. Here is a good place to start: http://www.simplypsychology.org/Erik-Erikson. During our time together at the prison, we work through Erikson's various stages and attempt to write about them. The women either use themselves or fictional characters to express each stage of living. The following writings are from our sessions. They were mainly inspired by Erikson's Stage Three, the Play Age, 3-5 years.

The basic strength outcome of this stage is Purpose. The most significant relationship is the the basic family. The child at this stage asks, "Why?" because of their need to take initiative and not feel guilty. I hope you enjoy the creativity of these women writing from the inside...

Vanished Without a Trace
by Mary Margaret

There was once a little girl named Mary who lived with Mommy and Daddy in a big new house. Her two brothers and sisters lived there, too, along with her pets. Mary's Mommy and Daddy worked on the new house which slowly began to resemble a perfect home. Her Daddy worked very hard at the local steel mill and her Mommy was a housewife. They were good times.

The wonderful new house was located in a small suburb of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. During this time, the 1980s, the steel mills in this region were the main source of income. Like many small towns in the great United States, steel mills were closing as the heads of these giant corporations could buy their resources and products more cheaply from countries like Japan.

One day, Mary's Daddy began to talk a lot about this problem. He began to pressure little Mary and her siblings to appreciate what they had. Soon, all the joy was gone from Mary's new house and her parents were fighting all the time. Her Daddy was home all the time now and Mary watched as he went into rages, attacking and destroying the furniture. Then Mary saw him turn his rage on her mother and an older brother.

Mary had a favorite doll named Nancy. She was Mary's best friend because her brothers and sisters didn't want to play with her. Mary was very lonely and spent a lot of time walking around the house with Nancy. Lovable Nancy was two and half feet tall and, unlike Mary and her family, Nancy was dark-skinned. Her mother told Mary Nancy was African-American.  Nancy had long, dark eyelashes and short, curly hair. Mary loved Nancy with all her heart.

Although Mary would have loved to escort Nancy further away from her unhappy home, she was forbidden to even go away from the house with Nancy. "I'm not going to have her lugging that black, nearly bald doll around town," she heard her father say.

Mary's loneliness made her desperate and one day she was invited by one of her older cousins to play a "secret game." Mary had a lot of cousins, perhaps twenty at this time. She was too old to play with the ones who were toddlers and too young to play with "the big kids." The invitation to play was a wonderful surprise.
But, the secret game didn't feel just right and the older cousin wanted to play it more and more.

Mary didn't know how to say No to her older cousin. Her Mommy and Daddy were fighting, her brothers and sisters didn't want to play with her. There was no one to talk to about her loneliness and her desperation to be wanted. Mary began to have terrible tantrums and a pain in her head that wouldn't away. "You are a naughty girl," she was told over and over again. She became very sad.

Too young to go to school like the others, she stayed in her room, isolated as she heard her Daddy and Mommy shouting at each other day after day. But, one thing remained the same: Mary's love for Nancy and Nancy's love for Mary. They could still hold each other.  Mary wanted to escape, to go away from this house and all its unhappiness.

Time passed and Mary started going to school. When she was asked questions, it was hard for her to speak up. Her voice was hoarse from all her tantrums. Her face would turn red in class and the other children would point and laugh.

But, then something good happened.

One day, Mary's oldest sister, Janey, walked into the room when Mary and her cousin were playing the secret game. Janey told their mother and the secret games stopped. But, no one talked to Mary about it. And no one would for twenty-five years.

It was Nancy who saved Mary's life during those years. God used a little doll to feel His love when no one else was there. Nancy has been gone for many, many years. Vanished without a trace.

Unless you've been loved by Nancy herself, like I was, you cannot know the comfort this black, bald, hard plastic baby doll brought.

The Chronicles of Jacob
by Dilynn

In the still of the night, a small voice cries out, "Mommy, Mommy." Alice runs to Jacob's room in a panic. "Mommy's here, Jacob." She bends over the bed and cuddles Jacob.

"Hurry, Mommy, get in bed before the monster gets you." Jacob folds his Power Ranger blanket back so his mother can jump in. "Let's cover our heads, Mommy, so the monsters can't find us."

Alice complies. "Now, Jacob," she says, "there's no monsters, I promise."

"Yes, there is, Mommy. I seen a big one. It was purple and had big ears and one tooth and it wanted to eat me. Mommy, I know it did. I just know it."

"Oh, Jacob, nothing will be eating you tonight, my precious little boy. Now, hold Mommy tight and go to sleep. You are safe in Mommy's arms."

Alice gently lifts the covers to shield her son, singing a lullaby as she watched Jacob's heavy eyes close and feels his heart beat next to hers.

My First Day of Kindergarten
by Sweet Truth

Hi, my  name is Josh, and my first day of kindergarten was today.

Mommy said that means I'm a big boy now and I'm not a baby any more. I wanted to ride the bus with the older kids, but I'm not allowed to. It's too dangerous. Someone might steal me at the bus stop or something. I don't know, but you know how Moms are. They're always worrying. She says I'll understand when I'm grown up. Whatever.

Anyways, school was so much fun. It was a lot cooler than I thought it would be. Ms. Brown is my teacher and she is really nice. I like everyone. We had to stand up and say our name to the class. We had to take a nap. That kinda wasn't fun, but we had recess after, so it's Okay.

If we're good we get a gold star. If we get ten gold stars we can have a party once a month. I'm gonna do it!
I want a pizza party with cupcakes- chocolate ones. We have Show and Tell every week. I'm bringing my turtle.

We are going on a field trip to the zoo! I'm so excited. I have to get Mom to sign a paper for my teacher so I can go. It's gonna be the coolest trip ever.

I'm gonna make Mommy proud and make 100% on all my tests and draw her pretty pictures.

I've gotta go eat dinner, take a bath, brush my teeth and go to bed for school tomorrow. I'm gonna ask Jesus to come to school with me. Maybe I'll take Him for Show and Tell. Well, that would be awesome. No one would think of that! Jesus is my best friend and I want to share Him with everyone in my class. Yes, that's what I'm doing.

Gotta go! Mom's calling for dinner.
'

Never Dull

My husband has an expression when new or surprising things happen and he has to adjust or accept. He says, "It's never dull." I don't like it when he says that- as if life is supposed to be constantly active and if it is slow or dull something must be wrong. That's because I'm a writer. We like things dull. We like things quiet, moving slowly. But, life isn't like that.

In life, we have to be flexible. We do have to adjust and accept change. And, actually, in writing conflict is key to keeping a reader's attention- whether it's a fast-paced thriller or an extended metaphor on seasonal change.

You would think life in prison might be perfect for the writer. And I have compared the discipline of writing to the discipline of being in a prison. It's a good metaphor in itself:  like the writer, the prisoner experiences a real distinction between what has to be done (most often for others) and the real need for self-expression in order to survive.

But, as in life on the outside, prison life is never dull. There are always changes. The group of women I have the privilege of working with is going through changes now. A new day. A new time. I have to adjust. Adjustment takes time. So, I won't be seeing my writing friends until the summer term when new schedules can accommodate. I will still collect writings and post. I will still hope for readers and connections.

Perhaps what I'm really saying is that I will miss them.

Scabies and Other Scary Things

Halloween has passed. October went somewhere. A lot has gone on since the last posting. I couldn't enter the prison for three weeks due to the entrance of scabies. Yes, those little mites had gotten through security, carried on the skin-contagious critters causing severe itching to those affected. The outbreak didn't spread widely but everything shut down. No classes. Staff did the cooking.

When the writers finally met again they were eager to write, even about the scabies. In this post are their thoughts on that experience, plus other scary things like teachers, getting back to "square one," even writing a blurb about themselves.

Let's start right here and get those scabies out of the way!

Wow, what a two weeks I had sitting in a dorm 
with no T-shirt or panties on. 
Just the brown uniform. 
Locked down with no property. 
Nothing to do but watch movies all day. 
Nowhere to go and nothing to  see 
but what the scabies has done to me. 
This all was very scary-but when it was over 
I was so happy to be free. 
I was ready to be all I could be-
and just be me.                                          
                                                          -Brooklyn

10-day treatment 
didn't cure the cause
Month's long adventures
Because it's not over y'all
Washed in the wrong treatment
But who would ever guess
The ones who gave us the OTC
Would be responsible for this
Back to square one
We've got to do it again
Don't they understand-
We need a vaccination, man?
                       -Determined LN

My prison world, as I know it, was turned upside down. All my clothes, personal belongings, including my children's pictures were taken away from me. Before this, I would have said something like this could never happen in a prison: shut down because of scabies.
I also would have said I couldn't live without my personal belongings, but I did.
This event made everyone equal. No one person had more than another. It was a big change and a nice one, especially to see who hid behind material things. But now the games of "who has what" begins again. Back to Square One.
                                                                                                                        -Princess007

Changing our Minds

A soft rain fell over Georgia during the night. As midnight approached, the Supreme Court of the United States sent a final ruling to a death sentence appeal down this way and Troy Davis was executed before this day began. He proclaimed his innocence until the end. Who knows the truth?

For me, Truth is a Person and only when we are accountable to Him can we hope to change. The philosopher and playwright George Bernard Shaw said, "Those who cannot change their mind cannot change anything." This statement rings with truth. But, how do we change--especially our minds? It's not so easy, especially when conflict, our pride, our lack of knowledge or examples to follow are factors. We need help!

I was at the prison yesterday from 1- 6PM, a little longer than usual. The Authors Club was interviewing new members, about twenty in all. It's quite an interview process with the members asking their own prepared questions of the interviewee. Those prospects who have had a DR or Disciplinary Report within the last three months are dealt with first. Out. Those who can't handle thinking of themselves as professional enough to report every other week on one project at a time by showing visable page progress, are eliminated. This "supreme court" of the Authors Club had to make these very important decisions in order for the group to go forward, to grow in unity. Above them is a Deputy Warden who has given the group this freedom to function and be productive. Law, Decency, Order--words we sometimes don't like to hear.

I sat with the nervous prospects in another room while they waited to be called. They face their fears and insecurities at times like this in different ways. In the main, they were quiet, some writing, some talking--if they came back into the room after their interview they weren't supposed to give the process away. That's why I was there, The Proctor in this dynamic. Not a good role for me.

We waited in a classroom for those getting their GEDs--the walls covered with information about the basics: reading, writing and arithmatic. I listened to one of the newer inmates complain to a guard about what was lacking in the prison system. Meanwhile in New York City, President Obama was speaking to the United Nations about Israel and the creation of a Palestinian state and asking the majority of nations to change their minds.

I picked a book off a shelf and began to read. It was Nancy Reagan's story of her life as First Lady, My Turn. It really took me back to the 80s when our country was much, much less divided than it is now--when we could actually pray for a President when he was shot whether we were Democrats or Republicans. I found myself getting a little angry at how divided we have become.

"A house divided cannot stand." Abraham Lincoln used those words spoken by Jesus, the One from Israel, the One I believe is the Truth. For healing and reconciliation in ourselves, with others, in our families, in our nation, in the world, the ability to change has to be accepted and embraced as the right way to go. We have to want to not be divided. At times like these--we who have inherited the belief that we, the people, can govern ourselves--we wonder if there are Supreme Absolutes? Higher, more Solid Thinking we can rest in? But do we want to change?

"Those who cannot change their mind cannot change anything." George Bernard Shaw. Before GBS and Jesus, Aristotle, another philosopher, said, "One may go wrong in many different ways, but right in only one way." Wisdom is wisdom no matter what the age we live in.

Before the Authors Club meeting ended and I followed someone with a key out of the prison into the coming night to rest in whatever decision the Supreme Court of the United States would make about Troy Davis, I gave the women a challenge to write a response to George Bernard Shaw's statement.

I look forward to what they have to say.

Where is home...if that's where the heart is?

"Home is where the heart is" is a trite phrase used often by people in daily life--and twice by writers featured in this blog. In writing we are to avoid using these kinds of words or, at least, put quotation marks around them to show that we know they are overused and have lost meaning. But, home was a theme these women prisoners wanted to write about--and that is where their hearts are.

These days in our nation, home and home life appear often to be a disaster. Soon we will remember September 11, 2001, when, ten years ago, our nation was attacked by those who did not think of America as their "home." Soon after that horrible event, we were introduced to the concept of this country as our "homeland." The words seemed strange, as if a truth we knew, perhaps took for granted, was being forced upon us.

H.O.M.E. Those four letters form a very powerful word: soldiers are coming "home," a family loses its "home" to foreclosure, a little Jewish boy in Brooklyn on his way "home" gets lost and is killed by a stranger, a 100 year-old prayer warrior goes "home" to Glory.

What is home really? A dwelling place of wood or brick? A particular spot on earth? People? A concept? A feeling?  If we, like the prisoner, have to give up everything or if we sell all we have like Jesus urged the rich young man to do, do we have no "home?"

The great American poet, Robert Frost, said, "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."  The prisoner knows this and the writings in this blog reflect that--or show the difference.

Crashing and Burning...

On Wednesday of this week, I met with The Authors Club. For a few minutes we spent some time working with three thoughts the group called out and I wrote on the board: home, I love you, and crash and burn. They all make sense when you think of who is saying them and where they are.

Then we brainstormed for attendant words. "I love you" produced tranquility, euphoria, passion, safety and even cliche; "home" produced freedom, ready, children, love, heart, food; "crash and burn" produced assault, aspire, fire, scary, depression, failure.

Then the women wrote for about 15 minutes and shared what they had written. In this issue of our bi-monthly blog you can read some of the results. The theme of crashing and burning had the most results.

And this certainly has been a week for dealing with crashing and burning: London and the riots, the Dougherty Trio, the Navy Seals lost in Afghanistan coming home.

We've also seen leaders step up to the bat, speaking to young people with a firm calm, a mother's prayers answered: although her children may spend many years in prison, they didn't kill anyone, and incredible stories of belief in freedom and being willing to lay down your life for it.

It's all working together towards some kind of good.

That's what faith is all about.

Happiness, Hope and Help

My husband and I are busily tidying up the house and grounds for a visit by his children and their children. The house will be full of little ones so everything four feet and under has become child-friendly: grown-up books have been replaced with those for children, table tops cleared of anything little hands can reach, a space for a  small, plastic pool and toys created because (hooray!) water play can last for hours--and years! Even the dog is running around trying to avoid a bath!

The Authors Club at the prison met yesterday to hear a visiting speaker, the author Haywood Smith--you can find her website at www.haywoodsmith.net. It is such a blessing when someone comes to visit, whether we are in prison or not, isn't it?

Haywood regaled us with true (and hilariously funny) life stories that are the inspiration for her novels--and while she talked, she gave us a glimpse of the writing life, with all its discipline, as well as the realities of the publishing business. For instance, Haywood has had to take almost one-third less on her new book contract. Self-publishing, e-publishing, the closing of bookstores, small and large, have created a whole new and to-be-discovered world for writers.

One of these emerging writers is Goldilocks, the president of our Authors Club. During the country's time of recession, while incarcerated, Goldilocks has written novel after novel--two are now for sale through Amazon. She also has more contracted with a publishing company. In addition, she is currently putting together a book of poetry featuring the women in the club. As its editor, Goldilocks asked me to write the forward. This is what I have written so far:

Summer, 2011

Four years ago, when I became a liaison for and participant in The Authors Club at the prison, I began to know Goldilocks. During this time the club has grown and changed, always for the better, mainly because of Goldilocks who is a natural leader.

Goldilocks' personal discipline affects us all. Under her leadership we are kept on task and not allowed to begin a new project until the one we are committed to is finished. Oh, we can write as much as we want about anything we want to, but we better be able to report—and show evidence—of the progress on our stated projects at the meetings. In other words, Goldilocks is a taskmaster--but a benevolent one.

Goldilocks' knowledge and understanding of the writing process and its discipline is an inspiration to all of us. She has taken bold steps in becoming a published author and has not left us out--this book is the result of her care for us and her desire that we, too, succeed. This book is a result of her leadership in our lives, but we hope that soon these writings will become a kind of “farewell gift” from us to her. 

We wish Goldilocks God’s speed on her hoped-for journey that will take her out of prison and into the wider world--and then we can all say, “We knew her when…”

Here is a poem she wrote:

Murderer

They say I'm a murderer

because I did what I was told

with a cold barrel in my face...shakin'

in fear for my life I drove

When I came to--it was tragic

a family gone

The devastation of being responsible

definitely left me blown

Define the assault he delivered

upon by body

stealing a part of my soul

The sentence I serve is life

In my heart the story unfolds

Daily...I awaken...

remembering what all was taken

My Creator above said He

would never leave nor forsake me

Through Him,
I'm not a murderer

I'm a conqueror

The Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste

When I was growing up there was a public service "commercial" on televsion. It was simple and pictured a young person bobbing around in some waves. The figure's little voice cried, "Help, help, help" as it moved in the water. A voice came on and said, "A mind is a terrible thing to waste." I hope I remember correctly--I think the ad was to raise money for college funds for African-Americans.

This week a family member had an incident that has affected the mind. This person is older. These things happen one doctor said. Another mentioned dementia. I asked about that. I must have showed some fear in my face.

"Dementia is nothing to be afraid of," the doctor said. "Many people experience it. My own mother and grandmother, for example. The terrible thing about dementia is if the person has no one to care for them."

I didn't like hearing those words. But when I thought about my love for this person, I felt strengthened to provide whatever care is needed, for whatever the duration may be.

I wrote this poem in response:

When the Mind Fails
Like worms, words don't surface
Like trails of snails, sentences stop
Silence and sleep become a place to slip
to slide...to burrow...to hide
Blessed are those who have someone:
so many don't.

Most of the women I've met in prison are surprisingly intelligent. Somewhere along the way education failed to reach most of these women and they "fell between the cracks." More education isn't insurance against dementia but there is growing evidence that it can help delay it. I'm a true believer in life-long learning: ee can be changed by the "renewing of our minds."

These days it's easy to find things to rail about--but, at least in this country--at least from what I observe firsthand in Georgia--a prison can become a setting for the wasting of the mind to stop.

How I admire these women I meet for not giving up.

How I admire those who work in prisons teaching and encouraging these women to carry on. They have someone who cares.

Politics, Power and The Playboy

It continues to be hot--all seasons bring their trials, but it cooled off a bit during the night. I woke up--yet again-- at 3AM and did my usual "walkabout." We keep the air-conditioning set to go on at 78 degrees. I thought of the women at the prison with none of these options: walking around and staying cool. After checking email--no messages from the kids, I settled down on the couch with the cat and the dog and turned on the television.

CNN. Repeat of Piers Morgan's earlier show. Guest: Hugh Hefner. I don't want to like him. Hef's been an almost constant background presence throughout my life: on the American scene, seeming to skulk, vulture-like with a haughty, detached look, always surrounded in photos by the kind of blonde most women will never be--or want to be. When you hear their stories most women, it seems, are in prison because they did something stupid for a man. But, in the middle of the night, The Playboy was making some quiet,calm sense. He didn't have the pipe in his mouth, but you could see the place it might fit as he talked.

"We need to get back to who we were," he said when Piers asked him about the present power struggle between President Obama and the Republicans. Soon, they contrasted our present state to that of China's. Hef and Piers agreed China is what we used to be: high ideals, desiring competition, open to change and suggestion. We shouldn't fear China--we have inspired them; they are trying to be like us, Piers and The Playboy seemed to be saying.

I suddenly remembered I had been awakened by a startling thought: Have we Americans--and other countries following our example--become slaves? And, if we have, who or what are we slaves to? Materialism? Credit? Wanting what we want when we want it?

Betty Ford is in her grave. Cokie Roberts told us Mrs. Ford wanted us to remember what government officials--those we elect to make decisions for us--were like in our past. A mother, a grandmother, a great-grandmother has died.

President Obama and Congress are dancing around the ring, jabbing and stabbing, meeting again for the fifth day in a row. Now, as I write, on C-Span I hear the Chaplain of the House of Representatives praying for peace and calm for its members. Now I hear the Pledge of Allegiance being recited...one nation under God.

Our present American economic situation, the up-ticking of indebtedness was bringing it all home--and it was waking me up! I went to the folder where I keep the writings of the ladies who are only half-an-hour away and are, most likely, awake as well.

Here's a poem by inmate Maisha Mahalia that spoke to me in the night:


A Changed Mind
I'm not working for the State for free.
I refuse to let this place change me.
These are the thoughts that controlled my mind from the start.
Then when my Grandma died, it did something to my heart.
I hate to get up for Stand Up Count.
I don't want to hear what the Officer's talking about.
I began to see it's not working for free, but for Freedom.
I realized I need to follow the rules and listen to some.
I realized I have to change the thoughts in my mind.
To learn not to let The Time do me, but to do The Time.
I will not change the way I think that I have for years.
I can't let this place break me, bring me to tears.
So what if I had to shed a few tears and let others see?
Tears help me let go of pain, anger and set my soul free.
Sometimes you need others to lean on, to vent what you feel.
You need someone who isn't fake, but knows how to be real.
I can never get a peaceful sleep or moment's privacy.
I will not let this place take away my independency.
Your Time can be hard and make you angry and hateful--
Or you can use Your Time to learn and be grateful.
Grateful that you are alive and get to see another day.
Thankful God spared your life so you can turn the other way.
Being in prison is not where I would choose to be.
But, honestly, prison has made me a better me.

A New Beginning

The heat index was 105 degrees yesterday. To protect myself from the sun, I carried an umbrella in my clear plastic backpack--clear plastic because getting through security at the prison is much easier if the guards can see what they're going to be sticking their hands into! The umbrella and I got through, but I didn't have to use it.

A woman with a key came to the final gate into the education wing at the same time I did. "You're my hero of the day," I said. Often I have to stand for a while before someone comes to my rescue. With one hand she held the handle of an open box filled with vials for taking blood, in the other some files --and she opened the gate embedded in sky-high fencing topped with razor wire. I had already come through 1,2, 3 locked doors and gates, each one letting me know I was going deeper and deeper into life inside a prison.

"Are you a phlebotomist?" I asked. She was indeed. A phlebotomist in a prison--what an interesting job! I asked her if it had been hard to get her job. "No," she said--and this particular certification was all she needed to get her job.

I've been doing some investigating into jobs related to medicine knowing this is a growing field of jobs for the future. I know it costs about $999.00 to do a Phlebotomy Course at a local college. Not a bad investment for a marketable skill.

After we got inside the education wing I was taken to my new classroom. Other than the students wearing uniforms of beige, the education wing feels and looks like any other school--in fact, this school was originally built for incarcerated minors.

Signs on doors revealed classrooms filled with women learning new skills--it's a new quarter of learning, an exciting time for the "cream of the crop" I was told these women are:  making the effort, taking the time to improve themselves. They could do assigned duties and stay in their cells, but these women have chosen to learn!  The education building is also air-conditioned and the dorms are not!

The first session of the "Becoming a Mentor" course went well. There were ten women living in the Faith and Character dorm who participated. Here are links to articles I wrote about the course:  http://www.intrepidmedia.com/column.asp?id=3584 and  http://www.intrepidmedia.com/column.asp?id=3588 

The dynamics are different every time I do the course because we are all different, but I give them the same information--the best I've gotten, the most useful information, gathered in my lifetime--history, psychology and people skills are some of what they'll be offered.  I tell them, "With this information you will be plugged into everything that is happening out there in the world!"

It's a bold statement, but I believe it. I believe these women can find a place in this world and be productive--if not always physically, then mentally and spiritually.

More than anything, at this point, I want to learn their names. I want to know their stories.

We do an Icebreaker, an activity designed to reveal group dynamics, to let us see how we function in "up close and personal" situations with others. I lay the small blanket my sister-in-law cut up for me so that I can cover myself on the train ride from Georgia up and down the East Coast. I tell the ladies it's a boat. The blue carpeting surrounding it is water full of sharks and alligators.  I think of President Obama and members of Congress struggling to settle conflict over our nations's budget.

"Now," I say, "you have to figure out a way to turn the boat over without anyone falling off."

I step back to watch.

First Day Back

Welcome friends and family of women writing from prison. Welcome ALL to this blog! I want you to read what your daughters, mothers, sister, aunties, cousins, nieces are writing and thinking.

Today I head back into the prison to meet with ladies living in the Faith and Character dorms. A course I teach called "Becoming a Mentor" is beginning again. When I get back home I'll post links to articles I've written about this course. It will be a whole new group this time and I'm looking forward to meeting them.

Prisoners who live in dorms where they can work on their faith (whatever it is) and character are shown to have reduced recidivism.

I'll also join the Authors Club which is meeting again today for the first time in a while. I function as a member, but also do a bit of instruction in the discipline of writing. Actually, these writers help keep me on track with my own writing. The group is very disciplined, requires accounting of work done between meetings. I'll write more later about the--at least--two women who have published books.

In fact, this blog has been inspired by these women writing from prison. I want their children to be able to read what they are writing and thinking about. By writing these women are overcoming so much. I want their children to be overcomers as well.

Link to article about how I got into prison work:  http://www.intrepidmedia.com/column.asp?id=3632