Staring at the Wall
By CW
I was warned there’d be times like these
But nothing could’ve prepared me for Dr. Swartz
Who comes around once a week
Peeking in my cell like he knows me better than I know myself
I’ll bet he gets a kick out of seeing a 22 year old
Who has been locked away in a cell since he was 16
Who has 30 more to go if a blessing doesn’t come through this damn wall
That he’s been staring at for the past 6 hours
I often come to this wall to somewhat free my mind
Or to drown out my annoying cellie
Who can’t stop talking about his boring relationship with his girlfriend he can’t seem to stop fighting
Even though she calls the cops on him every time
Or sometimes when the lights go out and the prison raucous is done for the day
I guess to seek mental refuge from this place
Other times just to reflect on what life was like before 23 and 1
When it was cookouts, huggies and hamburgers
Yeah, that always brings a smile to my face
Lately that’s been the routine
I start reflecting and end up with this smile
Staring at this damn wall!
Then here comes this Dr. wanting to know why I’m sitting here smiling at the wall
I give him the usual “nothing”
But to be honest
I smile to keep from crying
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The poets featured here are currently incarcerated, and many of them are in federal prisons far from home. Your feedback is a valuable source of motivation and connection to the outside community. Post your comments, feedback, and encouragement in the space below the poem. Messages will be passed on directly to the author. Comments may not appear immediately on the site, as our team processes them to mail to the poets.
“I start reflecting and end up with this smile
Staring at this damn wall!”
I can definitely relate to this– I find myself doing it all the time, and these lines really capture the wistfulness and also frustration that come with reminiscing. Sometimes I wonder if I should try to be more in the present, but it can be so nice to go over pleasant memories in your head, remembering better times and reliving the warm feelings.
I’m curious about this Dr. Swartz. I don’t like doctors either– I don’t trust them; too many bad experiences. But I was thinking that maybe he deserves the benefit of the doubt, and not to be judged by your immediate impression of him. That is something I’m trying to work on with people I don’t like at first. Who knows; maybe he’s misunderstood too.
Dear CW,
My name is Brian, and I am an English teacher living in Washington, D.C. Thank you for sharing this poem. What struck me most about it was your testament to the power of imagination. The simple, seemingly bleak, act of sitting alone, staring at the wall, can create a portal to a totally different world in your mind: the world of memory, the world of longing. In this way your imagination becomes a tool, a means for survival, for self-preservation. You beautifully capture this idea in the last line of the poem, where you tell us that your smile keeps you from crying. I hope that you won’t give up hope in your imagination. It can lead you to new ways of thinking about the world and about yourself.
But what to make of this Dr. Swartz? I get the sense that you’re trying to say that it’s impossible for someone to truly know someone else, and that we shouldn’t pretend that we do. When Dr. Swartz sees you stare at the wall, he makes certain assumptions about your mental state. You understand that not only is his interpretation wrong, but the very act of interpreting other people is flawed in itself, even if it’s with good intentions.
That being said, perhaps Dr. Swartz, despite his limited understanding of you, is nonetheless trying to help. Are there others who want to help, who want to try to understand you? Again, your imagination can help. Use your imagination to understand others, and to help others understand you. It can open new doors in your mind and bring you comfort. Our minds long for connection and understanding. Poetry is a great tool for that. Thank you – and keep writing!