Category: Feature of the Week

by Hessler I was five years old in 2007, when my mother left Mazatenango, our small village in southern Guatemala.  Gangs run that town and evil runs everywhere. I lived with my mom and dad and older brother until my dad started to get into trouble with bad people in town. I never knew what kind of trouble it was, but he couldn’t face his problems so he sank himself in alcohol. Soon his problems became our problems. He would come home and abuse my mom and just act crazy. Once I remember he threw my little bicycle at her.  One

by Thomas Sheen As a teenager I was a lonely, angry person. I was mad at my parents, my siblings, my teachers, my peers, and the world. I believed then that they didn’t care about me, therefore I wasn’t going to care for them. Although, deep down inside I wanted and needed their love and attention. To fill this void in my life and to escape the hurt I was constantly feeling, I began to use drugs and alcohol and to hang out with my “friends” that were older than me. This combination gave me the sense of love and

by Harry C. Goodall Jr. When I think about healing, I ponder those I feel harmed me, and those I harmed. Is prison the end result for most who have never healed?  Sometimes I think the two overlap. I am learning over time you can’t dwell on those you have harmed, whether physically or emotionally. I can only figure out what my triggers were to avoid doing it again. You have to learn how to place value on yourself as being a man, yet not feel your only role is to be a provider and protector. Reasoning, while in prison,

by James You may be able to free write; but I wish I was able to write free  See the thing about me is I’m just a HUMAN being   And I really don’t know how I’d do free  Most because I like things with no fee   And I don’t know how to let the bad things be  But I do know when I’m out   You’ll see me do nothing for clout  No excuses but I’m going to stay home   Because outside I’m known to get ruthless  But inside I still tend to make my own mess –   I mess up my family but the

by Andy Why give someone a second chance, or many chances? “Many people have never been given a second chance” other people may say. But everybody gets many chances in life by getting to live every day. I’ve been given chances that I didn’t know I was getting until I realized that I get chances every day by getting to wake up every day.  I’ve been incarcerated for about one year and nine months. It seems as time went by quick. A year and nine months ago was my sister’s graduation. She was graduating from elementary school. I never made it

Larry Deminter Because of boredom, angry parenting, domestic violence, using self-victimization, gangs and criminals in my community, I developed criminal personality disorder, beginning when I was nine years old. I saw my father who was an EMT train and study very hard to become a paramedic for LAFD. He would lift weights, run, and train with fire fighters who were friends. My mother who was a CHP 911 operator would quiz him with flash cards to prepare for the written test ahead. My father is intelligent and fit and he passed both the written and physical exams, however, someone is HR

 by Virgil Jason Clarke What is truth?  Truth as defined by The American Heritage Dictionary is as follows: Conformity to fact or actuality. Reality actuality.  A statement proven as accepted to be true; but what is it really?  Truth is listed as a noun meaning it is a word used to describe, an action.  So truth is not just a statement of fact, it’s a way of life.  How we live determines our truth thereby giving light to who we really are inside.        Truth is when we first take a look in that mirror and face the ugliness inside of us.  Coming

by Tyrone March 7, 2012 my oldest brother was killed. He was killed by the NOPD (New Orleans Police Department).     Coming home from school March 7, 2012, my oldest brother and his friend was sitting outside. They were just chilling and talking. Once he saw my siblings and I get off school bus, he told us not to come outside until we finished our homework. I told him “OKAY” and we walked past him to the front door.     First thing I remember doing was going to my mother’s bedroom to start my homework. As I was doing my

by Brianna Ramirez  In February 2011 I went to jail for assaulting a man at the group home I was placed in. My mom and I had planned so much before I became incarcerated so to her it was yet another monumental disappointment. I had been taken out my home initially because of the toxic relationship I had with my parents. I had disobeyed her numerous times and she had every reason to leave me in detention. I knew that jail wasn’t the place for me. I was taught better than to get myself into situations where I was locked down

Angel Delara The hard wood of the bench is uncomfortable. It feels unforgiving beneath my butt as I sit there, slouched forward so that my lower back is pressed against the gray, cement wall. On either side of me, my palms are flat on the seat, while my fingers are curled over its edge, gripping it not too tightly. Affixed to the wall above me there is a metal box with a metal cord attached to a large, plastic receiver. A phone. A sad, sad reminder to me of my brother Steve. I feel like I let him down.  323 – 335…