Lauren Scharhag writes

Exit 74 to Richmond

Parole is supposed to be a good thing,

But a few days before my release, my auntie called.

A few years back, my moms had gone to live with her in Richmond.

She was calling to tell me Moms was in the hospital.

The doctors said this time, she wouldn’t make it.

She was 76 years old,

Hypertensive,

On her third heart attack.

But arrangements had already been made for me to go home to Baltimore.

I called the halfway house and asked if I could stop at the hospital to see her.  

It was on my way.

The halfway house said no, I had to come check in with them,

Check in with my PO, do paperwork.

I tried to explain, the last time I spoke to her, I cussed her out.

I couldn’t let it end that way. I had to see her.

They still said no.

So I told them,

Listen, I’m going to Richmond.

I’m going to see my moms,

And be with her one more time.

I gave them my cell number and told them to call me

With any other concerns.

So that’s what I did.

I got off the bus in Richmond.

Went to my moms’ hospital room,

Stayed the night there.

The next day, the marshals called before they came.

I said, yep,

I’m here.

My moms wasn’t even conscious

But they cuffed her to the bed anyway.

Then they cuffed my auntie,

My sister-in-law,

My 10-year-old nephew.

They were arrested for the crime of being in the room with me.

The only one they didn’t cuff was my 6-year-old nephew.

But he got to watch all of us get cuffed,

And they still put him

In the back of a squad car.

Now I’m back inside.

I got a moms tattoo on my arm, done up in prison ink,

With the date of her birth and the date of her death.

At least she don’t have to worry about me no more.

-- Doug Kerr