• Author: C-----
• Editor: B-7413
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 6
• Page Number:
• Date: 5 30 1917
• Tags:
• poetry
• prison

SHUT IN AN OLD-FASHIONED CELL I sit on my cot in my cell, eight by six, And I look through a steel-barred door, I stare at the sky, where the free birds fly; Then sigh and look down on the floor; I pace my cell, right forward and back, My head bowed down on my breast; My thoughts are away to other days, And my soul is longing for rest. I have checked the days, and counted years, And by marking from ceiling to floor; I have figured the number of times the key Will turn in the lock of my door; The number of Sundays in nine to ten long years, The minutes, the seconds, and all, With the stub of a pencil were figured by me, And checked on the wall of my cell. My hair is white from worry’s strong bleach, And my eyes have b2en emptied of tears; I have wept unseen, have sobbed unheard, While alone with my sorrow and care. I have counted the rounds of the guard at night, And stol’n looks at the stars, prayer; I stand at the door when the mail man comes, With a longing that is always denied. I wait and I hope for a message from one Whom I loved in my sunshine of life. My day follows day in a heart-breaking grind, Its sameness is maddening to bear; The same shuffling tread of men legally dead; The same men, the same clothes, the same fare. Brightbuttons of brass and black bars of steel, They guard me by night and by day; I can think of all things, but do very few — I must bear and have nothing to say. My life is a horrible dream, without rest, In a nightmare, wandering aimless, Where the scorn of the world binds man to his sin, To his crime, to his greed and his strife. His life is an error that time will correct, But, oh time!.how you tarry in flight, How slow you are passing, to one that lives A life in a Stygian night. From out of the depths of this darkness Comes Misery’s loud cry of despair, And the world sends back but an echo, But no answering voice comes from there. I pace my cell backward and forward until The sun drops. back of the walls, And my cell with the night-light is flooded, Then the prison gets painfully still. The stroke of the bell I unheed; I walk and hear not a sound, And the guard finds me still walking, At the count taken up on last round. I have lived my life over in hours, In a dream journeyed back to my home, Back to the home of my dear mother, Once again I’'m no longer alone. In my dream the old place seems so familiar, But the voices seem broken and sad, And mother’s, whose face had the blush of a rose, Has changed since I was a lad. I walk down a smooth, worn pathway, And drink at the spring in the rock, To my ears co:aes the jingle of trace-chains, And I see the team strain at the plow; And the voice of my father, the plowman, This all comes back to me now. Memory now paints me the picture Of the city, its light and its flame, The wine, the women, and burning The wild-oats, temptation, then shame, Disgraced; then a man lies broken, Crushed by the weight of my sin, No longer a man, but a creature — A thing—a social ‘‘Shut-In.”’ I sigh, then turn to the stone wall, And drop to the floor on my knees: “My God, I ask Thee for mercy, To Thee I most humbly pray; Change me from what I now am, And make me a man today. Be with my little prison friend, Give strength to her soul I beseech Thee, Forgive him for all he has done, Give power to his purpcse for right. Let Thy sunshine come into his darkness, We have gathered the crop of despair, We have sown the thistle of wickedness, Our tongues have tasted of the evil fruit, We have taken the droppings. Lord, Against Thy divine commands, We have left naught for the gleaners But the stubble, the stone and sand; We have soiled life’s beautiful flowers, Without thought of sin or shame; We have burdened our brothers with sorrows, For pleasure, for greed and gain. We are reaping but what we have sown, Lord, In life’s fertile fields for years, We have gathered the yield, with selfish greed, Unmindful of suffering or tears, Turn not Thy anger from us, But strengthen our soul for the fight; Speak to those troubled waters, Lord; Be with us, we pray Thee, this night.” C—-.