Hope Found
Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks
Pouring out self on paper, what is it anyone seeks
In creating verses worth repeating,
could it be the sublime
Accepting the inevitable
that articulate verses and rhymes
Will flow sometimes when I least expect it,
in hard times
When the emotions I carry within
are no longer contained
Sometimes I surprise myself,
and am surprised at the same
in others, how in the midst of personal pain
one can be so inspired
Life has often pummeled
a creative soul aspiring
to reach within for a glimpse of heaven
others may behold.
I guess it stands without reason
that talent will unfold
and come to light in dark places,
where you find hearts aching.
Yes, there are people held in prisons
of their own making.
Sometimes these prisons are hard to detect,
others perpetrating
incredulous acts of violence or greed
find themselves
now estimating
the days they will have to spend
behind intimidating walls.
Their desperation found in pent up scrawls
Searing words stabbing paper,
endless verses
intimating deep emotions,
once hidden in foul curses.
For beaten hearts, is there hope?
The answer is found when one reads
the words written by teens doing time.
Hope harvested after planting seeds
of literacy that could lift these young minds
out of the haze
and challenge them to grow
beyond limitations. In juvenile detention,
I’ve seen young people come and go
talented and intelligent,
yet scoffing at education in school,
eyeing authority with bravado
and distrust, identifying with the gang
and drug culture.
Entrepreneurs, in a sense, looking for a quick buck
But it’s when they hear the loud clang of metal,
are enveloped in silence and endlessly stuck
in their own thoughts, needing a listening ear,
an outlet for the emotions they hold back
that once ignored, books and reading
take on new meaning,
relieve the boredom. And the impact
on this captive audience
is that they might just get hooked
on the power of words
and the relief of finding an audience
for what flows through their soul...
so how will they be heard?
In 2003 editors and writers from San Francisco,
visited the Valley of the Sun
and shared their vision and goal
of a publication releasing voices in juvie hall
through paper and pencil,
The Beat Within,
birthed in the heart of Sandy Close and David Inocencio
Perceiving these teenagers
could no longer remain ignored
Beat staff began a journey of exploration,
because they’d been floored
in 1996 from the intensity of emotion sparked
by Tupac’s demise.
Now what The Beat Within attempts to create
each week
flies
in the face of conventional wisdom.
But after witnessing the grief
and widespread loss of a generation,
found in piece after piece,
reflecting the heart of detained youth
is what staff in the Bay
strive for, releasing imprisoned minds and hearts
by providing a way
for young people to find themselves
and to know that they are not alone
This medium of self-expression is sewn
together with pulsating heart
and sheds light on dark subjects.
What Beat writers have to say
is sometimes shocking, and reflects
a view of society struggling beneath a weight
of confusing messages of worshipping wealth
and expressing hate
through computerized violence;
the rich and famous pampering their pets
while returning from war, as heroes, Iraq war vets
who deserve
efficient, top notch medical and psychiatric care
are left instead to face the reality
of Vet hospitals in disrepair;
look into the inner cities,
find american dreams mired in dope
sold to make a profit at another’s expense,
a risky downhill slope
work hard to achieve the American dream…
but isn’t it funny,
deranged that some of our hardest workers
are making
the least amount of money?
Yet we still subscribe to have all we can,
no matter what the cost
And we say the best things in life are free,
while lost
in mounting credit card debt
amidst materialistic wonder
Facing personal lack and faceless existence,
family’s asunder,
teens looking to belong and fit in,
find themselves locked in a cell
Sent to prison for their attempts at seizing heaven
while living in hell
Is it any wonder our young people are confused
and tell us they are lacking in hope,
Contemplating their futures while high off dope
No sense in setting goals, don’t plan to live
past twenty one
Is it possible the ruthless nature
they are thrust into
can be undone
We believe we can contain hate and strife
behind barbed wires
but I ask instead is there a lesson to be learned
in all the forest fires
engulfing second homes up the coast
and mountainous desert terrain
That it only takes a spark, a flame fueled
by fury uncontained
to destroy what we hold dear.
Recognizing this truth
and then witnessing year in and year out
the proof
in the power of the written and spoken word to give
opportunity for expression of soul.
Even when to live
is unbearable and confusing,
it’s a relief to know you’re not alone
in your experience
and the emotional truth you own
I give props to The Beat Within for stepping up
against great odds
Year after year advocating for young men
and women living in pods
of stone and steel, not fanning the flames
of hate and strife, but offering answers to games
of life played out for decades
and challenging us
to open our eyes
and see that our youth behind bars
have a voice and the size
of audacity and talent that when nurtured
with time and direction
may result in a positive impact on a community,
may stun
a neighborhood not with fear
but awe and amazement
at what a mind can become
when the pain is released and one, bent
on restoration and redemption,
finds life not death
Hopefully it will spread
this vision of releasing voices
in the west
across the nation,
stand not in the way of this tide lest
the overwhelmed dam of hate and strife
break and down us all
finding our voices may we stand or silent
we may fall
Don’t stop writing beaten hearts,
write what you can,
say what you need to say
Write as if your very lives depended upon it...
Props Beat Within for each and every day
You give hope and a voice to beaten hearts.
Hearts with lessons of life, resilient,
the words they impart
Takes flight above stone and sand.
Hope found
In being read...heard...
valued...profound.
Tkaeu
092907
