Calling all poets! CorrectionsOne’s poetry column highlights some of the inspirational, moving and funny poems authored by our readers.
This month’s poem is by a new correctional officer who finds it hard to explain to people what COs do for a living. “I find it even harder to explain to my friends and family why I don’t want to talk about work even though they’re just wondering how my day was,” said the new CO. “It’s just one of those jobs where unless you have done it, you will never quite understand it. That fact, coupled with an evening of scrubbing lord knows what off the bottom of my boots, led me to write this poem.”
Email your original writing submission for consideration to editor@correctionsone.com.
My Boots
Walk a mile in my footsteps
Walk a day in my boots
And you’ll understand and maybe appreciate
How they got to how they look
Listen to your radio
Loud beep sounds the alarm
Your buddy calls for circulators
That’s when you know to respond
Over rock and cement
Through heavy rain and snow
It’s always windy, just count on that
And an uphill run as you go
Not sure what you’re running into
You just know your help is needed
Could be a fight with bloody faces
Could be an argument getting heated
But might I prepare you
For the things I often meet
It’s not the punches or the yelling
It’s an offender in defeat
A bed sheet torn in several pieces
Tied oh so secretly
If you didn’t know these people like I do
You might just think they’re sleeping
But, of course, your buddy knows better
He’s one of me, he’s my brother
He knows the signs, so don’t hesitate
For if you do, it might be too late
Breach the door
Pull back the blankets
See what your buddy knew
Seven knots tied around their neck
Their face extremely blue
Forget the knife, it never works
This work you do by hand
Little by little, knot by knot
You’ll pull it strand by strand
It’s infuriating, it’s stressful
Gives you nightmares while you sleep
But for now, focus on what you’re doing
COs don’t accept defeat
They begin to breathe
Tonight they’ll be on watch
No shirt or socks, just one green gown
15 minutes rounds, your buddy walks
They survive another night
It’s a job well done indeed
Now they begin to bang their head
It’s a sight you can’t unsee
Blood pours down their face
And you try to convince the decisive
That their pain won’t last forever
That it’s a temporary crisis
Your captain yells “Suit up”
So go don your vest and helmet
You prepare to enter the cell
You are given your assignment
As a team, you charge on in
Wade through blood and dirty water
They put up a good fight, but in the end
Five on one is always stronger
You cuff them up and maintain control
As you take them to the bed
With restraints laid out and ready
While they’re begging to be dead
You strap them down, it’s never pretty
It won’t feel good but that’s the job
You leave them in the room alone
While you hear them start to sob
Just like that, your job is done
At least right here, right now
For the minute you think it’s over
Another alarm begins to sound
You must forget what you just saw
And however you must feel
Tonight you’ll drink and joke about it
It’s not great, it’s just how we deal
Through blazing sun that burns your face
You sprint uneven paths
Through mud and dirt and, of course, uphill
Sweat dripping down your back
Not sure what you’re running into
You just brace yourself for all
For when your buddy says they need you
You’ll be there to answer the call
Flooded cells and fistfights
I’ve done it all as you can see
For those boots that you are wearing
Have every mark that there can be
Walk a mile in my footsteps
Walk a day in my boots
And you’ll start to understand and maybe appreciate
How they got to how they look