BACKGROUND

Editor’s note: The following are samples of work from women
in the N.C. Women’s Prison Writing and Performance Project

I was 18 when I was arrested. I am 26 now. I am here for being stupid and wanting to fit in with the "in-crowd." I am here for breaking my mother’s heart, not caring about my education and sleeping with too many people. I am here for being self-destructive and not caring about anyone else. I am here because I had no conscience. I had no soul.

I am here because of the first guy I slept with, the last guy I seduced, and all of the careless flings in between. I am here because of the first joint I smoked, the last pill I popped, all the dope I cooked in between. I am here for the guns I’ve toted and the girls I’ve fought and for the way I could stare without a grimace while a guy was getting beat down. I am here for murder.

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I’m in a truck going to Texas. I feel totally lost. Thumbing wasn’t such a good idea. However, that was the only way I had to travel. I told Aunt Joe I’ll be fine, but my heart feels quivering inside my chest.

The truck driver keeps staring at me with those piercing dark eyes of his. The palms of my hands are sweaty and I can feel a huge lump force its way into my windpipe. I feel like I am choking on my own fear.

The winding roads remind me of a movie I once saw about a truck driver driving alone. Strange things happen to him.

I can hear the sounds of water running. I touch the dampness on my face. Those are tears falling.

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In my dream I can hear the vacuum, the resounding steps as I walk toward the door

In my dream I can touch the tablecloth.

In my dream I can feel

Happiness from knowing I belong and have contributed.

In my dream I can smell freedom.

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"If I could… I would"

If I could tell him I miss him

I would send him a card and flowers

If I could make him happy

I would tell him a joke or tickle him

If I could be filled with joy with him

I would be miserable with him

If I could hold him again

I would wonder what was wrong with me

If I could tell him I love him

I would

If I could tell him I hate him

I would… more than life itself.

If I could see his face again

I would be having a nightmare

If I could smell him

I would hold my nose from the stench of a rotting corpse

If I could give him back everything he lost

I would, just that and a bag of chips

If I could have left him

I would be home with my children

If I could have the power to do whatever I wanted to

I would make all this hurt go away.

- 30 -

Contact: Judith Reitman, (919) 942-0280