Daily, I am faced with various degrees of hatred and hostility.  Anger and aggression are as normal a salutation as any, while mean mugs, ice grills, and screw faces are merely grotesque masks worn to disguise the fragility of the tormented souls hidden beneath.  Tension remains tangible and paired with an air of animosity and malice.  The gift of new life seems more so burden than blessing when you awake another morning trapped in a lion’s den.

Here, in society’s pit of despair are cast the wretched, forlorn, and forsaken, thirsting for hope, longing for love.  Time here is measured by dry cries and tears of sand captured in a bottomless hourglass.  Although surrounded by men, I stand alone in corridors littered with broken spirits, blackened hearts, and tarnished dreams.  This is what life is like, trapped in a lion’s den.

To escape my fate, I seek retreat in a weekly bible study led by a courageous volunteer from the outside, one willing to wade through suffering and sorrow bearing the weight of our collective anguish just to deliver ‘the good news’.  Our mighty messenger is a beautiful, daintily built, 76-year-old motherly woman named Ms. Joyce.  This tiny five-foot giant slayer marches in every Tuesday armed with a welcoming smile, warm eyes, and the word of God. 

It is here, in the midst of this gentle spirit, that I am able to find rest as she sings, teaches and ministers from her well of wisdom and experience.  More often than not, this is the most peaceful place within this morbidly wrought dungeon.  Sometimes I wonder why she even visits such a sordid place, surrounded by murderers, thieves, conmen and worse.  Then I remember, its her ‘Christian duty’.  I am also certain she could serve that duty elsewhere – schools, hospitals, etc. – yet, Ms. Joyce finds it in her heart to remember some of society’s least mentionable, those bound in prison. 

At times, I watch in awe as she listens intently to the stories, problems and fears of men who have committed some of the most heinous acts imaginable.  Then, without judgement, she gives her best motherly and spiritual advice, hoping to comfort and correct those aching and misguided souls. 

And, yes, there are times when the dubious enter the midst, bringing mischievous distractions, whether intentional or not.  But Ms. Joyce lends them the same respectful, sincere ear and advice.  Sometimes, she also lends a sweet, sugar-coated scolding that brings a sense of humility to the simple and silly.

My favorite memory of Ms. Joyce took place one day before closing a study group.  She began singing, “I get joy when I think about… what He’s done for me…”

After singing through the chorus by herself, she stopped and said, “Okay, guys, now your turn.”

Once again, Ms. Joyce began singing, but unfortunately, she was still all on her own; not a soul joined in.  Ms. Joyce stopped again and said, “Okay, guys, now your turn.”

The words were spoken a bit more stern; sort of motherly plea and demand.  Then Ms. Joyce cranked up again, “I get joy when I think about… what He’s done for me…”

This time she got her results.  There was no way I could disappoint Ms. Joyce, so I joined in; and when I looked around, to my surprise, almost twenty cold, hardened criminals were either singing or attempting to sing about the joy they had found. 

ABOUT THE WRITER.   Carter is a thoughtful and talented writer. This piece was included in the November, 2023, newsletter and although it did not place in our most recent contest, was chosen as first by some of the judges. Carter is extremely interested in furthering his education, though opportunities are few where he is currently at and in his current situation. He continues to write and work on positive endeavors and is also a co-author of Beneath Our Numbers.

If you would like to contact Carter Cooper, please reach out to me directly.