Space for realness
My students hearts, souls and spirits long to speak, to have a voice and a quiet place, a chance to express their often unexpressed and unknown selves in poetry and prose. Sometimes, my fellow prisoners are not aware of this fact, until they are sitting in class writing. This is what happened to me decades ago at San Quentin when I trusted my gut and signed up for a poetry class.
I open my class with silent writing. This silent writing is a form of free expression on any subject. The silent period can last 20 to 50 minutes, depending on the flow of the pens on paper. Amazing prose and poetry can come from this process. Such a space to create as a group and as individuals is a rare and appreciated thing in prison.
Being a poet, a teaching artist in prison, I know the importance of this space and place to stay human, and for my students to share their own realness with their own voice. This writing offers the students a safe and cool place to bring down their masks and be human and real, and allow that what connects them to all human beings anywhere, to come out in an art form.
People not in prison would be shocked at how open, human and real these souls, hearts and spirits become to the arts when suffering or flowing through a prison existence. The arts can save you and sustain you through decades of hardness and inhumanity.
The writing helps to cope with and even prevent many tragedies, and can often create a reservoir of peace, hope and forgiveness. The power of the arts can open some up to feeling and caring again - to being human again. Perhaps, a state lost since childhood. The endless depths of that childlike love, creativity and realness.
© Spoon Jackson
First published at the Advocate www.sjral.com
Geese Greetings
I saw and fed the family of geese this morning. I had to call them down from building 5 to in front of building 8. The Mama and Papa goose saw me tossing bread in the sky for them and they took big jumps towards the food. They just could not get up and fly in one jump because the babies would have been left behind. I spread the bread and an apple out. Pigeons came down and I watched the most aggressive young gooslings chase a pigeon away. They are a little smaller than a soft ball and so full of curious life.
Family of Geese
The geese, my geese family greeted me this morning from atop of the cell block as I walked to the artroom. I called to them, the geese looked around long before they flew down to meet me and do their head and tounge dance. I bob my head with them and stick my neck out. The geese made sure there were no birdhaters on the yard. I shared some bread with them and of course the pigeons helped themselves. I took some crumbs to the morning sparrows and their young. I then watched as others fed a pair of Mallard ducks that come to eat daily most of the spring. I then threw chunks of food out for the crows in the distance. I could not see the crows, but I knew they were there watching. The bird haters came out and all the birds scattered even some pigeons. One of the birdhaters picks up the bread I laid out for the crows and throws it in the trash. When the hater leaves, I take the bread out of the trash and place it out for the crows again. I did not cuss the bird hater out or abuse him in any way. I’ll let karma do what she needs to do to balance the love and hate, the darkness and light
In Peace and Realness
Spoon.
