Gary
CLF member, incarcerated in SC

Over a pot she’d dice wild onions
add a “mess” of greens cut from her garden
toss in a chunk of salt pork
then feed us lip-smacking joy
Wells of goodness from humble fare
the magic of a Grandma
a quilt from precious scraps
a christening gown, an old shawl
cornhusks made into dolls
snowcream dusted with cinnamon
and just a speck of rum
Tuberose snuff, yeast-baked bread
pillowy, soft, just life her hugs

GARY
CLF member, incarcerated in NC

I am from persimmons,
from Karo syrup, and grits.
I am from the front porch,
wide, long, cool in the Southern heat.
I am from magnolias,
whose fragrance is the quintessential South.
I am from Sunday dinners and blue eyes,
from Joseph and Kathleen.
I am from the stiff upper lip,
from seen and not heard.
I am from back row Methodism.
I am from Glenwood and Randolph,
Guilford and Shropshire,
the Queen Anne II,
Icebox fruitcake, fried chicken,
homemade cream puffs.
I am from the Christmas ornaments
made of cardboard and glitter
that Pop bought during World War II
when metal and glass went to fight Hitler,
carefully preserved, precious, rare.
I am from Grandma’s tea set, fragile,
tea pouring from a dragon’s mouth,
Sitting out of reach upon the sideboard,
teaching me to value heritage, tradition,
family.

“Transition” has become a byword in the corrections field over recent years. It has come to encompass classes bearing such fanciful titles as “Thinking For A Change,” “Crossroads,” “Men In Transition” and “Ethical Choices.”

Yet, despite these, recidivism rates in the U.S. run from 41–79%. How is this possible?

As a prisoner now in his 32nd year of incarceration, I have taken part in the above named courses and many others and I have come to a conclusion.

Well-intentioned as they may be, transition services for the incarcerated contain wide gaps in content and scope of inmates addressed. Practical knowledge on such everyday mundane activities as navigating the internet, use of a cell phone, Facebook, Google, Twitter or any number of other such taken for granted resources which are totally foreign to most prison inmates.

America’s prison population is aging as well. I, myself, entered prison in 1991 at 31 years of age. Today I am 64. With this aging comes chronic health conditions and the need for transition services beyond job search skills, resume writing, and interview tips. Senior citizen prisoners will not likely be released to pound the pavement looking for a job. I dare say, employers would be reluctant to hire such for the insurance and health liability alone. Factor in the “scarlet letter” of being a convicted felon, and the elderly prisoner being released following a prison term of any length is left virtually with few or no resources.

Classes on applying for Medicare and Medicaid, senior citizen services, health care, opportunities for socialization and even such practical aid as transit services, Uber use, physician and dental appointments, obtaining copies of DOC medical files, housing options, and mental health — all are neglected.

In a recent transition class, a full 50% were above the age of 50, 20% were older than 60, five were over 65 and two were 70 or above. This is a typical demographic in American prisons. Inmates are locked away for lengthy terms to satisfy U.S. injustice and once their care becomes too costly, many are suddenly found “suitable for parole,” quite literally tossing seniors out on the street with a “gate check” and, if lucky, a 30 day supply of any current prescriptions and nothing more.

Who can forget the infamous scene in the film Shawshank Redemption when the elderly prisoner librarian Brooks was suddenly paroled. Having been in prison since before the automobile he was totally lost. He completed suicide.

Keeping prisoners for lengthy terms and providing no transition services to aid in a successful reintegration into society is a moral crime in which everyone is a victim.

Transition by its very definition means to evolve, adapt, and change. With our world’s largest percentage of the incarcerated (20%, while the U.S. is only 4% of the earth’s population), it is paramount, even critical, that the scope of transition be broadened to address the needs of an aging, growing prison population.

Last night, I awakened
from a dream
I dreamed of an America
in which those sworn to protect
and serve, abused and killed instead
An America whose hunger turned barbed
wire into shredded wheat and
stomachs became caskets
An America where masks were discarded
and grown men hid under sheets
as they stormed halls of democracy
An America who forgot her history
her polls claiming hate was history
an animal extinct like polar ice caps
An America in which no one escaped the
brutality of law and order ran amok
or escaped the massacre in a nightclub
or massage parlor
or a high school
or a supermarket
An America that claimed there were “good” Nazis
but… didn’t Uncle Sam go to war
to stop the goose-stepping in ‘44?
An America where a wall grew in a
land that once told a foreign leader
to “tear down this wall”
An America where hatemongers
quoted the words of Dr. King
and you are no longer safe in a church
An America whose Statue of Liberty
was silenced, her torch gone cold
the ashes our new mascara
An America whose populace quaked
slouching towards a coming apocalypse
Was it just a dream?

Gary
CLF member, incarcerated in SC

In the beginning
it was all darkness and fear
I saw no way out
no end to my anguish
a place that conveys death
yet, can offer life?
to become new
I entered into this cocoon,
a target of transformation,
the time out in darkness
becomes a metamorphosis
death and life working together
to bring about a transformation
from the ruins of the old
like a butterfly, to emerge
forever changed
a person I have never been,
but the world, this life
isn’t all rainbows and butterflies,
for you can’t change the mind
if you have not touched the heart

Dedicated to the CLF

GARY
CLF Member, incarcerated in SC

To Whom It May Concern
Last picked for softball
first to be blamed
taunted and jeered at
hiding in shame

To Whom It May Concern
Last born child of eight
awkward and confused
never feeling love
knowing only feeling abused

To Whom It May Concern
Told there’s no place for me
I would never fit in
God’s love is not for you!
no way to win

To Whom It May Concern
Rejected and ashamed
life as dark as night
love finally parted the clouds
at last I saw the light

To Whom It May Concern
I found a place at Christ’s table
there really is room for me
I have emerged from the abyss of despair
and at long last I am free

GARY
CLF member, incarcerated in NC 

Farlow, Gary 2020-10-16 Artwork – October Walk.