A Day in Solitary Confinement

From cell block nine

I am released,

For a narrow window of time.

†

Cell Block Nine

Narrow Window of Time

With burlap covering my eyes

And my hands cuffed behind my back,

The guard knows I

Cannot attack.

†

With confidence he leads the way.

Not a word do I dare say.

†

My senses tell me I’m in a long corridor

But we have not yet passed through a door.

†

A Long Corridor

Door

When suddenly the guard’s grasp

Upon my arm adjusts

And I hear the rusty sound of metal.

†

I recognize the sound,

My memory serves me well

Inside this prison’s hell.

†

Prison’s Hell

I feel a hand now press my head,

This is my cue to bend.

†

I’m told to take another step

And with that step

I fear the place I may be near.

†

But finally the guard decides

For just a minute he’s on my side.

He tells me where I am

And where I shall reside.

†

Solitary Exercise Yard

My thirty minutes don’t last long

In the concrete yard

With little reward

But the sun’s deep warmth.

†

The sun, it makes me grin

And my mind wonders

Back to the days before

I stole the horse named Gin.

†

Four stone walls

And a concrete floor

Are the solitary exercise yard.

†

No hoop or ball

Just me and four concrete walls.

†

I pace

And make my heart race

While the sun beats down upon my face.

†

I smile all the while

Until at last

My name is called,

Metal scrapes,

And once again

To the darkness I dread

I am lead.

†

With each blind step I climb

My mind begins to numb.

†

Blind Steps

The solitary life that I now live,

Is one I must forgive.

†

copyright Robyn Graham

The poem above was inspired by a recent trip to Eastern State Penitentiary in which I did the audio tour and heard testimonies from former prisoners as well as former guards.  If my memory serves me correctly, the first prisoner to experience solitary confinement was a man who stole a horse.  His head was covered so that he could not define his where-a-bouts and so that no one could identify him.  The images accompanying the poem are a few that I felt coordinated well with the story told through the poem.  The quote below by Charles Dickens really summarizes what life in solitary confinement was like.  The quote, too, fell in line with the words of my poem.

“Looking down these dreary passages, the dull repose and quiet that prevails, is awful. Occasionally, there is a drowsy sound from some lone weaver’s shuttle, or shoemaker’s last, but it is stifled by the thick walls and heavy dungeon-door, and only serves to make the general stillness more profound. Over the head and face of every prisoner who comes into this melancholy house, a black hood is drawn; and in this dark shroud, an emblem of the curtain dropped between him and the living world, he is led to the cell from which he never again comes forth, until his whole term of imprisonment has expired….He is a man buried alive; to be dug out in the slow round of years….

And though he lives to be in the same cell ten weary years, he has no means of knowing, down to the very last hour, in what part of the building it is situated; what kind of men there are about him; whether in the long winter night there are living people near, or he is in some lonely corner of the great jail, with walls, and passages, and iron doors between him and the nearest sharer in its solitary horrors.” – Charles Dickens in 1842 after he visited the Eastern State Penitentiary

 

“Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in the darkness.  Whoever loves his brother lives in the light and there is nothing in him to make him stumble.”  1 John 2:9-10

Discarded

“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

– Horatio Spafford

 

Discarded

I have to wonder if the prisoner(s) who sat in this cell laid his head upon this pillow and thought to himself the very lines of this quote.  Perhaps if he believed in forgiveness he did.

A Walk Down The Haunted Hall

I recently took advantage of an opportunity to photograph at the Eastern State Penitentiary when the former prison was opened for evening hours specifically for photographers.  Some photographers brought their studio with them;  lighting, models, etc.  Others, like me brought only tripods and cameras and just photographed the old, dilapidated building.  I did however, happen to be in the right place at the right time and captured the reflection of a model walking down the hallway to meet her photographer.  I loved the combination of the old with the modern.  She was wearing blue and white with red stilettos and caring a red handbag.  As you will see in future posts about this shoot, the red did not compliment colors on the walls and thus I chose to present it in black and white.

A Walk Down the Haunted Hall

Upon a Stool

Once upon a time

I sat alone

With nothing more than cold, damp stone.

†

Upon a stool

I sat and sat

And thought about

The fool

I’d been.

†

At times I’d shout

But no one came

Much to my chagrin.

†

I wasn’t meant

To be let out.

†

There was no doubt

That I’d been bad,

And caused others

To be very sad.

†

Those with clout

Set my punishment,

And so I sat

Amongst the stone.

†

All alone.

†

Yes,

There were times

I thought that

I’d go mad.

†

But then the light

Would shine bright

And hope restored

my inner lad.

copyright Robyn Graham

Upon a Stool

“Do not let your heart envy sinners, but always be zealous for the fear of the Lord.  There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.” Proverbs 23:17-18