A poem by Richard Wembe Johnson from Folsom State Prison
One would think in a prison cell one couldn’t find compassion;
<p>From all likelihood, it would seem unlikely in any fashion.
This, however, depends greatly on one’s view on life;
You can’t expect to have warm feelings, while your heart is filled with strife.
There are those who think that real feelings come from outward sources;
This unfortunately is the attitude of a lazy mind that underestimates nature’s forces.
Regardless of what the situation may dictate for anyone with fortified concern;
The practice of caring is drawn from within; this is the main term.
Even though I’m confined to a place that manifests hatred, violence, and anger;
The worst of my fears is to lose sight of my purpose and place my humanism in danger.
To succumb would be to surrender my heart, my life!