Graterford Prison

I just came back from a visit to a maximum security prison.
It was an incredibly intense and emotionally draining experience. I went with a group of about ten to discuss issues facing inmates, and to explore the possibility of becoming a volunteer for their literacy program.

Entering the prison one is hit with an immediate sense sadness, fear, anxiousness. My nerves were on end as we passed through the security checks. The guards, usually with a mustache, a belly hanging over their belt, and rarely with a smile on their faces reminded me a little too well of the very guards in Oklahoma.
Every small noise, the clinging of keys, the murmurs of inmates, the gruff commands of guards, a sneeze, shuffling of feet, seemed to be amplified as if we were in an empty auditorium. It was so clamorous, that one had to walk right next to the person they wanted to hear.
Cement walls surrounded us...dirt clinging to the floors and awful paint combinations like one would see splattered on school walls...burnt orange and dirty yellow, bland maroon. The prison stretched for miles...miles of wall, metal, barbed wire, confinement. We could peek in occasionally meeting the eye of a man sewing, or folding laundry...eerily like we were on a tour of a zoo.

On the tour we visited some empty cells. Trying so hard to imaging the feeling of having my life stripped out of my control and stuffed inside this cement world of man made suffering I peeked out the slits in the window, sat on the bench, stood in the middle of the room arms crossed. Staring out the window at the wall topped with coils of barbed wire just feet in front of me, a panicked feeling began to creep its way into my chest. Furrowing my brows I stepped back, it was gone. I tried to conjure up the feeling again..how doe sit feel to have the horizon stripped away from you, for 718 of the 3000 inmates ...for forever. How does it feel to see a butterfly fly so freely through the cracks in the barbed wire?

But the feeling would not come again, a little relieved I glanced around. One bed had a checkerboard etched into the metal, another had tally marks. What was he counting? Another had the word "always" scribbled upside down on the top bunk's ledge. I ran my hands over the words, touched the lockers, wondered what each man was thinking...how does one become accustomed to life like this?

Our group then met with three inmate lifers. They began to talk to us about the literacy program they ran for other inmates in preparation for GED programs. Each of them began to share a bit of themselves, their pasts and what they are doing today to effect change.

John has spent over 30 years in prison. He was convicted with he was 17 for life without the possibility of parole. A human rights violation in all but a handful of countries, the US as one of them. In the world there are 11 other juveniles sentenced to life w/o parole, the US holds over 2000.

He spoke about how society, and those he was surrounded by dictated who he was. "I was who I thought they thought I was."
It was not until coming to prison that he felt like he really grew to understand and know himself. He got a bachelors degree and is currently fighting juvenile life incarceration. Him and a group of other inmates proposed the first bill to discuss the issue.

The other men told us of their lives. The three of them know the law and law books like the back of their hands. After years of studying their cases, and the system they act as stand in lawyers for many of the inmates. They were peaceful, happy and their lives seemed surprisingly fulfilling.

I thought to myself, you do not encounter many people in the world like these men, who would have thought they would encounter them in prison? I was overwhelmed with the sadness that these truly incredible men would not experience the freedoms and joys of life..how much longer would the optimism last in an institution meant to break you?

I did not understand the complete sense of confinement of those walls until I walked out.
The reality that these men's whole existences will only see miles of concrete and hear the clanging of keys flooded me as I was near blinded by the brightness of the sun.
Suddenly I was aware of every freedom that I experienced.

I was humbled and taken aback by the three men that I met today. I only hope that I will be blessed to work alongside them in the coming years.