The Visit
Staajabu
[This poem is read by Staajabu 
]
The pain is too acute as we watch
Our brother/son/husband/friend
Herded by fat, uniformed, vacant eyed guards
Back to a hell that seems to never end
Except for our visit.
It’s a sharp stab to the heart
A vertigo that starts in the head
Knowing that these men
Strong yellow/brown/black/red
Might be dead before our next visit.
The hurt overwhelms goes to the core
A collective ache felt by us all
As we leave our
In the cells, rooms, dorms and halls
And we start to grieve, crying
In silence for a longer visit
We leave by car, bus, train and plane
Their face on our minds their touch still felt
Words and kisses warm on our ear
We slump in our seats and try to melt
Into the memories of our too short visit.
Whistles, bells, headcounts lines
We sit or stand for hours it seems
As the life behind the prison walls
The hellish life and what it means
Bombards us in the visiting halls
Waiting watching for our visit
We fill out the forms
Wait in the lines
Go through the metal detector a thousand times
The sounds that reach us shock us so
We can hardly talk when at least we meet
Our brother /son/husband/friend
As the gate finally opens and we smile and greet
Them on another visit.
Our hearts beat fast.
Do I look alright? What will he say?
You know he called last night.
Cowboy is back in here again.
He stayed out almost a year this time
Chile, James just got out the hole
Said a chump on A Tier told.
I swore I wasn’t comin’ up her no more
Junior bring your butt back here before-
Shaniqua let me fix your hair
TJ, look, look over there
Here comes your daddy
This poem appears in BAMM! 1993
By V.S. Chochezi and Staajabu.
Staajabu also reads Marilyn Buck’s “Black August.”
About the CD | The Poems | The Contributors | About Marilyn Buck
poems © the authors
compilation © The Freedom Archives
