For the past several months I have been visiting maximum security inmates at a prison in Nashville. These guys have reach the end of the road as far as prisons go. Most are severing long sentences for violent crimes. But what gets them sent to this particular maximum security prison is not what they did on the outside, but what they have done since they have been incarcerated. These guys are locked in single concrete walled cells (about 8′ x 12′) 23 hours a day. I talk with them through a metal door. These guys have become my friends and I have become their pastor. One of these inmates recently sent me the following poem. This particular inmate has been incarcerated for about 10 years and has been in maximum security (solitary confinement) for about 14 months. He is serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole. I am posting it because I would like to know what you think. What do you think he is trying to say? What does the poem say to you? The title of the poem is “The Clock.”
I sit here delirious
cursed to be curious
about nothing serious
my soul is weary
my sight is dreary
my thoughts are a fury
drove to abysmal insanity
by strife and vanity
by the lot of humanity
struggling all around
to the clock we’re bound
the tick is a reminiscent sound
signaling the moment has passed us up
whether or not we’re stuck in a rut
passed on by regardless of our luck
to the clock we relent
and the event
becomes a remnant
of our memories intent
of the time we spent
until the time went
as it always goes
unrelenting to sorrows
reinventing tomorrows
time, through the clock is sown by man
time, through the clock, is known by man
time, through the clock, owns man.
Floods of Justice 