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Prismed Prisons. A poem about a wife visiting her husband in prison.


She walks down cold, silent paths
Down corridors of steel
Through shackled prison walls
Houses husband to reveal.

Steps soft pace drear distance
Between spouse and spouse
Visiting today from separate lives
Each in a divided house.

His gnarled fingers worn by tests of time
Clasped in tough confusion
Cradles jaws tensed, stern
Views hard bred in seclusion.

“Be not bitter,” she tells her husband
In depression do not dwell
Remember us, your family
Live out your self-made hell.

Your children, poor and lonely
Miss close, warm family ties
Become prisoners real in walls
Unseen to agonize.

Think not that wide walls of freedom
Stand close to imprisoned few
Beyond gray bars, inside steel walls
Outside is a prison too.

– imelda dickinson

Prismed Prison a poem about a wife visiting her husband in prison inmate poetry
Prismed Prison a poem about a wife visiting her husband in prison inmate poetry

This poem is about a woman I saw, who was walking to meet her husband in a prison.


Here’s a beautiful poem by Terri Foss, of Washburn, WI.

Where can I find the words to heal the sadness and the pain that has touched your heart.

When words are not enough to say, my heart will speak in many ways. I believe our lives are as God intended them to be.

Although we don’t understand his ways when times feel so unfair, try to remember God will always be there.

All your loved ones from above will guide you with their love. For someday you will see together you all will be.

Terri Foss




A man’s daughter had asked the local minister
To come and pray with her father.
When the minister arrived,
He found the man lying in bed with his head
Propped up on two pillows. image

An empty chair sat beside his bed.
The minister assumed that the old fellow
Had been informed of his visit.
“I guess you were expecting me, he said.

‘No, who are you?” said the father.
The minister told him his name and then remarked,
” I saw the empty chair and I figured you knew
I was going to show up.”

“Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bedridden man.
Would you mind closing the door?”
Puzzled, the minister shut the door.
“I have never told anyone this,
Not even my daughter,” said the man.

“But all of my life I have never
Known how to pray
At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it went right over my head.”

I abandoned any attempt at prayer,”
The old man continued, ”
Until one day four years ago, my best friend said to me, “Johnny, prayer is just a simple matter
Of having a conversation with Jesus.
Here is what I suggest.
“Sit down in a chair;
Place an empty chair in front of you,
And in faith, see Jesus on the chair.

It’s not spooky because He promised,
‘I will be with you always’.
“Then just speak to him in the same way
You’re doing with me right now.”

“So, I tried it and I’ve liked it so much
That I do it a couple of hours every day.
I’m careful though. If my daughter saw me talking
To an empty chair, she’d either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm.”
The minister was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey.
Then he prayed with him, anointed him with oil,
And returned to the church.

Two nights later the daughter called
To tell the minister that her daddy
Had died that afternoon.
Did he die in peace?” he asked.

Yes, when I left the house about two o’clock,
He called me over to his bedside,
Told me he loved me and kissed me on the cheek.
When I got back from the store an hour later,
I found him .

But there was something strange about his death. Apparently, just before Daddy died,
He Leaned over and rested his head on the chair
beside the bed. What do you make of that?”

The minister wiped a tear from his eye and said,
“I wish we could all go like that.”

Prayer is one of the best free gifts we give and receive.
I asked God for water, He gave me an ocean.
I asked God for a flower, He gave me a garden.
I asked God for a friend, He gave me all of YOU…
If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it.

Happy moments, praise God.
Difficult moments, seek God.
Quiet moments, worship God
Painful moments, trust God.
Every moment, thank God.

God bless you my friends and may you pass in peace, into the next life, when your time has come.

Written by: unknown

Because I could not stop for Death

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

image We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then ’tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

Emily Dickinson left several versions of this poem.
This is the way it appeared in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson by Thomas H. Johnson.  Regrettably, many early editors of Dickinson’s poems dropped the fourth stanza.  The above poem includes the sometimes missing 4th stanza.