a letter and a poem

When a child or a sibling is taken away suddenly, certain things that weren't important before become very important. When the possibility of visitation is non-existent or limited, what was taken for granted is now the focal point of a day. Words and things on paper, tangible things, replace the physical presence of the person and take on a life of their own. When those memories are all that remain, for a length of time or indefinitely, they are treasured, re-read, looked at and held to hang on to hope. And for a prisoner in particular, writing may be the only creative outlet and escape that they have. Here is a quote:

"The desire to write creatively has dropped off. The inspiration I had seems lost to me now. The inevitable outlet is the letters, and you become the unintended target of my increasingly misguided anger. Misguided is putting it lightly. But you understand. I just don't know what to do, I'm not sure how to preoccupy hor help myself at times. I end up zoning out to my drollery routine and ignore it. Then I end up exploding in one of these letters or pacing the cell, fuming and pulling out my hair until I get a nose bleed. This stupid stint is going to kill me if I let it."

The title says "a letter and a poem". The poem is a memory of a missing child who may never return, written by his mother.

I love you,

like no other child.

My broken winged,

April Robin

I watch over you,

from on high.

So many mishaps,

so many falls.

I shudder and shake

in disbelief.

You are too old and brazen

for your years.

I would like to cradle you

against my breast.

Protect you from the elements

forever.

"There are monsters out there,"

I preach.

"I have met all the monsters,"

You sigh.

Looking into your eyes,

I believe you.