Chris Stain

In the United States, over 2,500 youth (predominantly youth of color) have received life without the possibility of parole sentences. Thousands more are serving lengthy terms or effective equivalents of life without parole. The United States is ALONE in sentencing youth to die in prison. For a brief primer of JLWOP, this short video is helpful.

Partnering with the Illinois Coalition for Fair Sentencing of Children, writer and activist Kevin Coval has edited a powerful chapbook of poetry by adults who were sentenced to life without parole while they were still youth. Part of his preface to this publication reads:

Some of the writers you will read here are guilty of the crimes for which they have been convicted. Some express deep remorse for their actions done, in some instance, more than 20 years ago. Some are responsible for horrible things no one can undo. Some were kids caught in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Witnesses and accomplices to horror, but not the progenitors of that horror. Some were abused and neglected by parents and living conditions. Some are products of an environment of poverty and gang culture. Some are captives in the draconian war on drugs and the war on bodies of color in a gentrifying urban landscape. Some of the writers here, decades into their sentence continue to claim and work to prove their innocence in the home of Jon Burge and police torture and confessions thru coercion. And some, as has been the case for more than a dozen men exonerated from death row in the state of Illinois since 1977, are indeed innocent. Though, the question this book raises is not one of guilt or innocence. It is a question of our values.

As usual Kevin’s words expressed plainly and beautifully lay out the case for why it is important to read and hear the voices of youth sentenced to life without parole and to ask ourselves if we are truly a civilized country when we allow such injustice. I have selected three poems to feature here today but will continue to share some of the other powerful poems from the book over time. In the meantime, you can LISTEN HERE to a reading of several of the poems in the book. The event was taped through Chicago Amplified, a program of Chicago Public Radio. The room was standing room only and it was an evening to remember. Blogger Rosa captures the power of the event here.

A Prisoner’s Voice
Carl Williams

I wrote this poem 16 years ago but I share it now as I have never shared it before. And I share it now because it was part of my voice and the beginning of the writing that helped to heal me.

The rainbows have faded.
No longer shines the sun.
My days are now so lonely.
My nights, just the same.
I call out to the heavens
screaming out your name.
Please hear my cries.
I’m begging for help.
No one is there.
I close my eyes.
I awake to voices screaming
of the emptiness, inside.

Carl Williams is 33 years old. He grew up on the South side of Chicago and was 17 years old at the time of the crime for which he received life without parole. Carl maintains his innocence and continues to fight for his freedom.

Freedom Is So Far Away
Darnell Foxx

I fell at 15 into a hole of judges and state attorneys.
They had guidelines setup to choke me to death.
They had bogus lawyers surrounding me holding their breath.
I needed some air. They have me life plus 60.
I remain captured in the bottom
of the dungeon. Hope is just a word
because the courts have no heart.
In this coffin with another human
is the true meaning of living dead.
The smell, the sight, the steel, the concrete
3 walls, one floor, one ceiling, a gang of bars.
When bedtime is near, your time weighs heavily
your mental combines with women you use to sex.
The cell feels like a coffin. Although most think heaven
and hell is beyond earth. Some say it’s mental
slavery in action.

You will die here.

Freedom is so far away
you can smell death
wash over your cell.

Darnell was sentenced to life without parole for two murders committed when he was 15. As a child, Darnell dreamt of being the first in his family to finish high school. He is 28 years old, has obtained his GED, and wishes to enroll in college courses. He longs to be with his family and take care of his sisters.

16
Kenneth Brown

Sometimes I wonder about life and why I grew up so fast.
Never knowing the life I had, would end up so bad.
I grew up amongst a family who did not have much
love for one another. I hit the streets thinking
I would find love from others. I dropped out
of school, found myself running the streets. Gangbanging
selling drugs to make ends meet. Deep inside my heart
I knew it wasn’t the life for me, cause I constantly
wondered about the people I hurt, wondered if the Lord
would forgive me. At times I wish to turn back
time. To lead a better life without crime.
I have lost all hope and what it means.
I was never given a second chance at life
to fulfill some of my dreams. Now sitting alone
in this jail cell, thinking about the many things
I haven’t done and haven’t seen. It’s hard
to carry on when you’re doing life without parole
at the age of 16.

Kenneth Brown is 30 years old and grew up on the West side of Chicago until he received a life without parole sentence for two murders committed when he was 16 years old. Since being incarcerated, he has earned his GED and works in the prison kitchen as a cook. He learned how to cook from his mother and grandmother during Thanksgiving and other holiday dinners.