Friday, March 3, 2023

FREE MINDS write and share . . .

     Last weekend I attended a very special event at Live Garra Theatre in Silver Spring -- an event featuring poetry and drama from ascending citizens -- described in the image below.

Two organizations that endeavor to improve the lives of incarcerated and recently incarcerated persons are The Free Minds Book Club and Freedom Reads libraries

     Below I present a mathy poem by another survivor of incarceration (and founder of Freedom Reads), Reginald Dwayne Betts. (I found the poem here at Poetry Foundation).

   At the End of Life, a Secret     by Reginald Dwayne Betts

       Everything measured. A man twists
       a tuft of your hair out for no reason
       other than you are naked before him
       and he is bored with nakedness. Moments
       before he was weighing your gallbladder,
       and then he was staring at the empty space
       where your lungs were. Even dead, we still
       say you are an organ donor, as if something
       other than taxes outlasts death. Your feet
       are regular feet. Two of them, and there is no
       mark to suggest you were an expert mathematician,
       nothing that suggests that a woman loved
       you until you died. From the time your body
       was carted before him to the time your
       dead body is being sent to the coffin,
       every pound is accounted for, except 21 grams.
       The man is a praying man and has figured
       what it means. He says this is the soul, finally,
       after the breath has gone. The soul: less than
       $4,000 worth of crack—21 grams—
       all that moves you through this world.
       This poem first appeared in New England Review.

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