Changing the Way that Charity Changes the World.
Why are you still, my brother?
The lights go out in an hour, the guard is waiting;
why have you stopped here to gaze at the stars?
“Did you know they burn in silence?”
The whistle blows. Feet shuffle. The guard’s eyes rise.
What good is a flame that gives no heat?
What use is a blaze that cannot roar?
The guard draws near. The path grows clear.
Lights out,
Via CC license
May the brokenness in me
fit the brokenness in you
so both are made whole.
licensed via creative commons
A place from which you can’t escape is prison.
A place to which you must return is prison.
The space between the place where you were born
and everywhere you fear to go is prison.
Your shame has strapped a saddle on your back
and whipped your ass to ride you back to prison.
Their faces — all the ones you can’t forgive —
become the guards who lock you in your prison.
Pull back the shades; reveal the fragile glass
that forms the razor fence around your prison.
What taste now aches within your bitter palate?
What sweetness haunts your memory in this prison?
You see your lover standing at the gate.
You wave to her — but turn into your prison.
Click to learn more about my first children's book, which explains incarceration to children with a parent in prison. You can also buy the book on Amazon here.
Click to learn more about the children's book I created for the North Texas Food Bank, which explains food insecurity to children who want to help others. Rather than emphasizing charity, the book integrates a participatory model that demonstrates how to engage those who suffer from hunger in co-creating an equitable community solution to it.
© 2024 Jeremy Gregg
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