Polaroid by: Kata Fountain, Photograph, 2009.
Letter to My Son
by: Roxanne Carr
Was it really because of me?
That’s what the lawyers said –
That’s how they got you Life –
instead of the Death Penalty.
Did I really fail you that badly?
You – you were so different –
So needy – so angry – so obstinate.
So hard to love.
But I tried –
I thought I tried.
That’s not what the lawyers said.
They said –
I was gone too long –
Worked too hard,
Partied too much.
Left you alone with your brother –
who beat you.
I didn’t know.
(Anyway, isn’t that what big brothers do?)
Only once –
Did I know,
and watch –
Because you deserved it.
You – and your angry little mouth.
What could I have done?
How could I have saved you
– from you?
So many things to be sorry for
– even before I knew what you’d done.
When you came back from the war.
I thought you were healed –
Exorcised of the demons
That plagued you – US –
All your life.
I was wrong.
The FBI said
It wasn’t my fault.
The Defense team befriended me
-betrayed me –
You were the one who told me
They weren’t my friends,
in one of many expensive, collect calls.
How could I have known?
I didn’t understand why
they asked so many questions
– about me.
I wasn’t there.
I’ve never even been –
in a physical fight.
You’re the only person I’ve ever lashed out at
– violently.
I told you not to do it
Long before -it- was an option.
I told you in a war
You die before you knowingly
Do something wrong –
Even if your commanding officer tells you to.
You didn’t listen.
You never listened.
And a jury of your peers
found you guilty,
then found me guilty.
So they spared you
and condemned you
To a life that’s no life at all,
If you ask me.
Alone – for your own safety –
Because the other convicts would kill you.
the atrocity of your crime that unthinkable.
You disgraced the United States,
So the United States abandoned you –
Forbid the Defense from mentioning
the army’s shortcomings.
And since Uncle Sam paid
The lawyers obeyed.
And now you sit – alone.
The world is safe.
You are safe.
You can’t hurt each other anymore.
But you know what, Son?
The dark thought,
that haunts,
and hurts me,
Survivor’s guilt, I guess.
I thought I’d be the first one –
you’d kill.