[Inmates playing chess from prison cells, Attica Correctional Facility, Attica, New York],
March 1972, Photography by Cornell Capa
Born in chaos,
bathed in misery;
ribs stoved in
until my red fist
was an icy stone.
Iron contains
the beast; clanks
as grunts of ghosts
echo in canyons
of justice.
It took a queen
to thaw and open
my life; gift from a
plastic angel
without wings.
Carrie is the host of The Sunday Muse.
Tao Talk 
Good one!
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Thank you, Paula.
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Great take Li.
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Thank you, Sadje.
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My pleasure Li
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A fine poem!
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Sunita, thank you.
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wonderful poem Li! :-)
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Thank you, Carol Anne :)
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A poem full of great emotion, and I felt it. Love this Lisa!!
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Thank you very much, Carrie.
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That’s a beautiful thought, a light in the dark. (K)
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Thank you, Kerfe.
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Born in chaos,…bathed in misery…that is oh so true to many of them.
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Max, don’t I know it. The stories of so many of the juveniles I worked with still haunt me. Thank you for reading.
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I know you would know much more than me. I hired a girl here who was 17 for little stuff…she was born in a prison. I’m hoping she does ok.
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::fingers crossed:: be kind to her. Kindness (and patience) can work miracles.
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She is gone now…she left on good terms so it was good.
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Oh, I must have misread that you just hired her. Ooops. Glad she left on good terms in any case.
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The way I worded it I don’t blame you…yea I hope she does good in life…she did good here.
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Oh I love this. Thank goodness for that plastic angel without wings.
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Thanks much, Susie.
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Wow, what a powerful photo. I also like your poem!
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Thank you, Christian.
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Nice one.
Happy you dropped by to read mine
Much💛love
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Thank you, Gillena, much appreciated.
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Lisa, your poem is incredibly evocative .. felt it in my bones.
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Helen, thank you. Saving souls comes in many forms.
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Love this poem, Lisa!
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Thanks, Sara!
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