This is very personal and hurtful to write. I wrote it for Bloggers for Peace Each month Kozo Hattori gives us a theme or prompt which ever you prefer to write about. This is the third time I’m participating and it is the most difficult because is dips into our personal life. To learn more click on this link Bloggers for Peace
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I am looking through the perspective of my thirty-four year old son who has spent most of his adult life incarcerated. He was diagnosed schizophrenic when he was sixteen. He is currently diagnosed bi-polar. He was locked up for six years I think and came home on parole for four years. He was living in a group housing he started getting high and was kicked out. He went into rehab and started training to become a councilor, he was doing well. He got into college and took a heavy load that he couldn’t handle. He started getting high, he quit school, got kicked of his room and was living on the streets. That was always my fear. He robed someone this past August. He was lucky that they gave him six months and violated his parole. He can be back on the streets as early as October 2014. I’m the only one he has and it weighs heavy on my heart. Doing this challenge is hard and personal.
When he was arrested I wrote this poem.
This is seeing things in his perspective.
I do feel the battle you fight in your head. I imagine the voices screaming louder than the love I’ve poured over you from the moment I conceived you. The medication cripples you, makes you dopey, slow with delayed reactions. So you stop and consume street drugs that are out of your price range. So you steal from others who work hard to sustain their lively hood. I know you do this when you are in crisis. I know that when you are in compliance you wouldn’t rob or hurt anyone.
I know you battle the goodness I taught you against the evil you learned while incarcerated. You sit locked in a cell. You are alone with your thoughts and blaming the world for your misfortunes. If there is a mirror in your cell if I was you I would look into it and place the blame on who is at fault. You have to take responsibility for your own actions.
From your perspective, I know you don’t want to blame me . I don’t think you can’t help it ,I am your mother. It is my failure as a mother that you became the man who you are. I didn’t give you the tools you needed to fight the forces inside you or the ones outside that attract you. When I practice tough I fall for your sorrow and believe in you. You play on my love and guilt.
You want to change. You want to succeed and you want to make me proud. You want to give up because you think that I have. But I haven’t. I’m just tired of being disappointment every time I think you’re making progress in the right direction. I tell you to be patient but you don’t know how because you want to make up for lost time. As you sit in that cell I hope you realize your impatience put you there and you’re wasting more being a ward of the state who sees you as menace. They know that you will be back and spend your life behind bars. But I will always see you as my son, my adult son not a little boy. I will always love you and believe that you will succeed and make me proud.