SEVENTEEN YEARS ago, I was thrown into a cell in the Segregation Unit at Holman prison for conspiring to escape. I felt as if I had been pitched head first into the open jaws of a monster, a monster whose roar was the sound of steel banging against steel; whose moan, the whispering of schemers late into the night; whose cry, the whimper of tortured souls shadowboxing demons; and whose smell, a rank mixture of rat shit, body odor, urine, and disinfectant. The gullet of this beast—a narrow hall ankle-deep in trash and bits of food—fed nightly armies of roaches and mice. ...more

I enjoyed calling my friend “Mr. Bill,” because I truly respected him that much. I was a person who never respected anyone. ...more

After 13 years of seeing each other only occasionally, I couldn't understand at first what Jerry's brother was doing in my living room, nor could I comprehend what he was saying. "Jerry… accident… hospital… not good.” I listened again, harder. There had been an accident, and the man I loved was now in a coma. We had often kidded about who would die first; I always made him promise to let me be the one. The truth was, I couldn't see a future without him. And now here I was, being told he might be dying. ...more

It was August 2009 when my father and “the kids”—my two sisters, my brother, and I—were sitting at Mum’s bedside on the 19th floor of Mass General Hospital, in the thoracic ward, watching her closely and awaiting the latest word from her surgical and oncological team. On September 23, in the wee hours of the morning, she died.

The last words I remember her speaking were, “We’re off and away!”… And so we were! A year later, aboard our home away from home for the past three years, ...more

I’d rather not write about you, because writing about you means you’re somewhere else. I’d rather not write in the second person, as if the ‘you' (you) were right here instead of at Mt. Auburn Hospital in your pajamas. ...more

The convicts and I, a volunteer, sit in a circle in the prison. We do this every Thanksgiving. Eyes closed, we imagine sitting around a table in a clearing surrounded by a woods in which the parts of ourselves we have exiled live a furtive life.

We sense inside for any exile who might feel safe enough with us now to step out of the woods and join us at the feast. ...more

Went several days last week without tears, then came upon Rosie’s straw hat hanging by the front door. What is it about hats?? Went a couple of days more and came upon a pair of socks she’d worn while in Mexico and rubbed them on my cheek. I light a candle for her at night—I forget sometimes and feel guilty. I feel ok sometimes and feel guilty about that. I know Rosie would think me foolish. ...more

Now,

two years later

I see you

in the sunlight patterns that cross my wall in winter.

I can think of you

on a summer night full of stars.

You are with me

as the autumn wind

gently moves the leaves outside my window.

You surround me now with gentleness.

But,

at the time you died it was different.
...more

With the shift changing, the nurse was identifying us to her relief: "She is the social worker…the mother…the doctor from the Jimmy Fund…” Turning towards me, she said, “I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. Are you the father?"

"No, I'm just a friend."

“Just a friend”—what pitiful words. The girl lay dying in the intensive care unit of Children’s Hospital, surrounded by an awesome display of life-saving equipment. ...more

Mama you made beautiful quilts
To wrap us in,
And little shoes for my little feet.
You brought okra from a seed
In our family country garden,
Turning over the earth in the summer,
topless. ...more