From Bosom To Bowels: a cry from Death Row

Lord, why did you spare me
the night I lay shot and cried out to you?

All my transgressions I laid at your feet,
yet you turned not away from my spirit.

Now my troubles are imminent death
in the form of state sanctioned execution.

I have counted the faces of those gone down
in the chamber, their legacy left untold.

I, too, am slated for an unrighteous death,
Will anonymity mark my grave?

Am I forgotten, Lord, or just forsaken
and no longer worthy of your care?

I am deemed lowly and unfit
by those who call on your name.

There was a time when your mark laid heavily on me
and I was overwhelmed by your grace.

Now you give favor to my closest friends
and made me a victim of their deceit.

Even my thoughts are shackled and confined
to a chasm erected from anguish.

I have searched for your comfort in every way
and turned up only disaster and dread.

Do broken spirits make it into heaven?
Does my tongue spew curses of thee or sing praise?

Is repentance best served as a dying declaration
and faithfulness a daily chore?

Is there a path to eternity from Death Row,
a place set on misery and darkness?

And still, God, I trust in you,
hear my prayer when the morning comes.

Reject me not before I am called to your judgment
but find mercy in my shortcomings.

From bosom to bowels you have shielded me
when I was close to death.

From your will I strayed to worldly desires
and was left with my shame to bear.

My anger is of my own doing
my faithlessness was my doom.

I am trodden under the heels of my enemies
but in you, Lord, I am redeemed.

You have given me the way to enter your kingdom,
your glory is my salvation.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Terry Robinson writes under the pen name ‘Chanton’, is a member of the Board of Directors of WITS, and heads up a book club on NC’s Death Row. He is an author who has found purpose not only in his love of writing, but also in lending his voice to those who cannot speak for themselves. Because he is an innocent man on death row, his gift of expressing himself and his experiences through the written word is invaluable in raising awareness of issues within the criminal justice system. The ease with which he was put on Death Row for over two decades, in contrast to the struggle to undo an injustice is what his life examplifies and he shares that experience with grace and eloquence like no other could.

Terry continues to work on his memoirs, as well as a book of fiction, and he can be contacted at:
Terry Robinson #0349019
Central Prison
4285 Mail Service Center
Raleigh, NC 27699-4285



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Join The Club!

Our North Carolina Book Club is an amazing bunch. The club is based in Raleigh, NC, on Death Row, and we are starting our next book this week, chosen by one of the members. This particular club has chosen to determine book titles on a rotating basis, each member having a turn. That in itself has proven to be interesting – pondering what a book choice says.

If you would like to join us, our next book is The Shape Of Water. They should receive their copies on Wednesday of this week, so you have plenty of time to order yourself one. The group consists of Roger, Antwan, Rodney, Warren, Marcos, and Terry. Our last book, The Hate You Give, started some in depth conversations about race and perceptions that we never would have had. Sometimes its not always about the book, but the insight we gain through the conversations the book inspires.

Feel free to reach out to me, if you would like to contact the group or are reading along and would like to send in your thoughts on the book for their conversation in five weeks.

Happy reading!

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When We Were Kings!

Remember when we were kings,
long before heroin watered its malicious ego
with our tears,
when we stood tall against the shadows of our
demons,
long before our will and pride were conquered
by fear?
There was so much more to you than flesh and blood.
I have lost more than just a friend,
a son has lost a father,
a mother has lost her child,
the world lost a light that will never shine again.
You were stolen from us far too soon
to roam among the giants in a time out of
place.
From where you are, can you see my tears
stain this page,
can you hear my silent wish to take your
place?
I never got the chance to say I’m sorry
or mend the friendship I allowed to be
broken.
It’s finally setting in that you’re really gone
and there’s too much left unspoken.
It’s not enough to say I love and
miss you.
You were funny, kind, smart, giving,
we take for granted the ‘morrows we may
never have
and lose sight of the privilege of living.
Another life has become poison’s trophy,
though some day we’ll all know death’s sting.
Till my turn, you’re immortalized in my tears –
and in the memories of When We Were
Kings!
Rest in peace,
                my friend…

ABOUT THE WRITER. James Bonds seems to know all too well the devastation of addiction, as is reflected in his writing. He wrote in a letter that accompanied this submission, “If you know an addict, love them now – while you still have a chance.” Mr. Bonds can be contacted at:
James Bonds #19111-033 1-unit
Federal Correctional Complex USP-1
P.O. Box 1033
Coleman, FL 33521

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