On our return to the UK, we received this seasonal poem from The Prophet, who has contributed his work to the blog once before. Although Christmas has come and gone, we feel that his powerful message is still relevant today.
Also, we would like to wish all the blog readers a Happy New Year, and a big thank you from Jon for your consistent support. He remains cheerful and optimistic and looks well in spite of his situation. As we are now in 2006, we can now look forward to our son’s release in late 2007.


Correctional Christmas

No lights in the windows,
not a gift to be found,
My bare swollen feet
wish to kiss the cold ground.
The trees are all missing,
no pine in the air,
As I run these cramped fingers
through the gray of my hair.
I’m trapped in this box,
not a bow or a string.
The screams for some sanity
the only carol they sing.
Guess the jingle of chains,
is the closest I’ll be,
To the sounds of old Christmas
I now think of with glee.
For it’s correctional Christmas,
and all through these cells,
are the wonders and worries
of this temporary hell.
So locked in our cages,
Doomed to our fate
I wonder, can there be Christmas?
Or is it too late?
Then just as this Christmas,
Seems to tick on its way,
I lean toward my celly
And here’s what I say.
Not a bar or a lock or a prison on earth,
Can steal from my soul the joy from Jesus’s birth.
My cellmate then adds
In what seemed like mid-toss,
Let’s not forget Jesus died on the cross.
Then as we settled
in our cots stocked like crates
For a moment of clarity,
was our Christmas fate.
Nor the jailors or wire,
or the walls that surround.
Could stop these two prisoners
from the Christmas they found.
So blessed be the convicts,
That find themselves here,
And I pray that your Christmas
is a free one next year.

*dedicated to my friends imprisoned over the holidays

©Copyright2005 prophet