There is so much powerful writing that comes from our circles inside the women’s prison. This includes each woman’s individual writing, as well as the combined words that constitute a ‘found poem;’ or multiple lines from each woman’s writing from an earlier week which then get combined into a single, new poem.
The women love these poems because they recognize their own lines, know that someone appreciated their words enough to write them down. In addition, the weaving of all lines together creates new meaning from the original writings; one which may be completely different, though often seems still wiser and more complete than any one on its own. The following is no exception:
Take my hand;
I’m not a ‘lil girl you can push around any more
caught in the shadow of someone else
with an instruction manual
to worship, envy and disguise.
I am no longer a prisoner to you;
I am weary of the games,
a lifetime of head-banging against walls
finding demons within
caught in the shadow of loneliness,
human misery erupting like sores.
I’m not your middleman.
I have broken free of you. Continue reading