ISOLATIOIN

I'm a man that's currently on display in this subculture of humanity; otherwise known as the "The Concrete Zoo". This is a place that's within, yet completely out of the scope of what most know as society. One where the mental abuse that is isolation causes many here to digress into an almost animal-like state of being. Sadly many of the adult males, some who were once men, and others that were never taught how to be men, lose their will to fight what seems like a losing battle. Not having the spiritual & mental capacity to withstand the onslaught to their senses that comes about as a direct result of prolonged isolation. So, many release themselves into a state of conformity. They accept the lie that them being housed in cages merits them acting & being treated like animals. Without even realizing that they're doing so, they embrace that role. Inside the Segregation Building one feels even more trapped than when they are out in the prison population. There's never a time when people aren't screaming & shouting. The aura in that place is so dark & heavy that it literally feels like an anchor has been tied to the core of your being, pulling your soul out of your body leaving a shell of your former self to remain in a cell until it rots and dies. Bloody tears flow from [my] soul as I pray after witnessing the pain & despair in the eyes of broken-hearted men. Men whose Hopes & Dreams have been lost in the maze that is the Court System; Minds battered with ever-changing policies & procedures; Spirits crushed under the weight of bricks steel; Potential forever lost in time passed due to lengthy prison sentences. That's just a peek into the world of ISOLATION.

A few weeks before my son passed away last year I took a job that changed me in ways I never knew were possible. On this job I've been humbled, wearied, strengthened, and frustrated, along with a number of other feelings. In a word I've been BROKEN! Not like an object in need of repair, but in the sense of being stripped of any superficial beliefs I had about people having an innate quality of goodness. Initially I thought the job would be simple due to its description. Basically I would have to keep the building clean and maintain the stock of supplies needed to operate the building. I prayed about the job before taking it because I had no desire to be in that building under any circumstance. After receiving an answer I took the job; having no clue of what I would be in for. Believe me when I say that since taking that job I've been stretched in uncomfortable ways that produced growth within me in areas where I never knew I was lacking. That caused me to see & think about things in a way that I never had before. For years I couldn't sleep without Lavinia being close enough to me to hold her. I thought about a hug my sister KaShonna gave me over 25 years ago after I taught her to read the book A Kiss For Little Bear, and how good it felt. I closed my eyes and I could smell Blue Magic grease and feel my mother Susan holding me between her legs as she combed my hair. That memory is replaced with the feeling of my maternal grandmother Essie's warm, wet thumb wiping cake batter off of my face after I had licked the big spoon clean. With a sorrow I can't explain I feel the warmth of my son Antwiane Jr.'s body laying on my chest listening to my heart beat so that he could fall asleep. Each of those accounts involve physical contact of some kind with a loved one. Rarely does one grasp the importance of a moment until it's gone. My son's death taught me to value, respect, and appreciate each moment that I'm blessed to have because it could very well be my last. Thank you son! Even in death you're still lacing me with knowledge. Why didn't I see the closeness of my sleep with her as a place of comfort rather than just a sleep habit? How could I have neglected to appreciate the power in something as simple as a hug? Why didn't I realize that the firm way my mother held me to comb my hair was an expression of her love for me? How could I have know I'd miss a saliva covered thumb so much? Rest In Peace Granny Goodwitch! Why know that the heart that my son once listened to in order to fall asleep would be pierced through with pain after he passes away at age 16? Rest In Peace Ah-Jeau!