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Other essays on this theme
Essay: "The View from My Cell"by Ruben Benavides With the loud CLANK from the black iron door closing reminds you that you’re in prison. The 6” wide, 4’ long chicken wire window I stare through to see what’s going on. The floor in front of my cell has old syrup stains and Kool-Aid stains that look like dried blood. The roaches dip in and out of the drain to get some of the food that lies on the run. I’m surrounded by steel, iron and concrete to make us see there is no way out of this place. To cut or dig is a useless job. So the daily reminder is always there… no freedom, so sit here and think about what you did.
The dayroom is no bigger than a normal living room. The only difference is that it’s surrounded by the iron bars. They are painted black like our thoughts. The stainless steel table can seat 4… but only one person is let out every hour. Some times it feels like I’m in a zoo exhibit… a caged animal walking in circles, eyeing the people standing at their doors. Sizing up their friends or foes. Back here in Ad. Seg. it’s the same thing all the time… the food on the trays, the daily routine, to the conversations we share with each other. Cold concrete walls, iron bars, keeps us boxed in. Boxes us in the day… and through the night. When the sun shines and lands on your body it’s a comfort to feel something different other than the coldness that surrounds us. Breathing the stale air, seeing the black and green mold grow old with us. We’ve become immune to all the negativity. You can stare in these people’s eyes and see they are screaming for help. Nobody to help them, so they fall deeper into the cracks of this cold place. When you go outside and come back to your cell… you notice the smell of rotten air, and the male violence… We are like an old wall that has small cracks in it. The system is the plaster to cover the cracks. Over the years the walls look good and painted. But under all the tough skin is old and rotten… with no possible way to get fixed, only to be torn down and demolished. When one wall falls, here comes another 6 walls to hold up the system. Ad. Seg. is the ultimate change for our minds. Through the darkness, stale dead air, there is a glimmer of light trying to fight through… if you stay focused and have some of that light to keep you straight, you will be ok…. That’s my view and out look… |