Not Just Words
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Poetry
The voice is beautiful; my lungs fill with a relieved gasp.
I expected a prison sentence.
A feeling of chest tightening, breath weak, metal and voices.
A life of strip searches and beatings.
But I have a table of warmth and empathy, compassion and communication.
An unwavering sense of belief and understanding, with the outcome forever changed for me, and everyone is utterly breathtaking.
A chance, I tell you, at real recovery, support and the understanding of who we are, our background, our life, our everything.
With a simple question. A simple ‘why?’
Which leads to further questions, then genuine support.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Why did you do it?’
The real truth, the further questions.
‘How can we help?’
And help.
I mean, real help.
Homes, counseling, communication, support, warmth, food, clothing, necessities and so much more.
Where the media report on the person behind the story, not a glamorous lie.
Where everyone understands that people need support and help, not hard and forced solitude.
Where governments say ‘no’ to prisons and ‘yes’ to actual help and improvement.
And do it.
Actions, not just words.
The voice is beautiful; my lungs fill with a relieved gasp.
I expected a prison sentence.
A feeling of chest tightening, breath weak, metal and voices.
A life of strip searches and beatings.
But I have a table of warmth and empathy, compassion and communication.
An unwavering sense of belief and understanding, with the outcome forever changed for me, and everyone is utterly breathtaking.
A chance, I tell you, at real recovery, support and the understanding of who we are, our background, our life, our everything.
With a simple question. A simple ‘why?’
Which leads to further questions, then genuine support.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Why did you do it?’
The real truth, the further questions.
‘How can we help?’
And help.
I mean, real help.
Homes, counseling, communication, support, warmth, food, clothing, necessities and so much more.
Where the media report on the person behind the story, not a glamorous lie.
Where everyone understands that people need support and help, not hard and forced solitude.
Where governments say ‘no’ to prisons and ‘yes’ to actual help and improvement.
And do it.
Actions, not just words.
How to Make Bannoffee Pie in a Secure Unit
By Garth
A sweet treat using buy-up staples.
Creative
ISSUE NO. 20
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1 MIN READ
I Am Tired
By Anthony
Tired from being told what to do. I am tired of love, tired of being deemed guilty, tired of my own remorse. I am tired of my own self-doubt, my own shadows and especially tired of my own face.
Creative
ISSUE NO. 20
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I Hate You, Crystal Meth
By Mackenzie
Hate’s a strong word, but for you it’s reserved. I hate what you’ve taken from me, my parents, my childhood and my glee.
Creative
ISSUE NO. 20
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1 MIN READ
Twelve Years Trying to Patch Up My Soul
By Abynei
My blue eyes look so drained, but I’m strong, I’ll make it through.
Creative