This is my response to those of you who somehow believe I just don't get it right. This poem is written by Jamie, whose work has appeared before in my blogs. Jamie, being one of my prison poets, a promising young man that I have known for quite awhile. He writes about fathers -- his, in this piece, and he opens our eyes to the reality of his life. He does it with a brutal honesty and yet a sense of wistfulness for a childhood he wishes he could recapture.

"Same Song"

He made me,
But turned his back and never raised me.
Betrayed me,
Just to run the streets and chase the ladies.
Or maybe,
He wasn't ready for a baby so he wasn't there
And never cared about my safety.
We never talked about the birds and bees or
The relationship between girls and me. "I LOVE YOU,"
No he never spoke them words to me,
The first of three,
He wrote me off and never searched for me.
So his sister stepped up and tried to buy my love with shirts and sneaks,
But the hurt was deep and relief was not in that purse she keeps.
So longing turned to hate and his face became a curse to me.
And what's worse is, he never made it to the nursery.
Indifferent to his son and the woman who gave birth to me.
He never paid child support, never taught his child a sport,
He just left me to the streets so I grew up a little wild and lost.
My mother did what she could with food, clothing and shelter,
She taught me to never hit a woman and always respect my elders.
But I can't respect him, in his eyes I meant nothing.
You can't forgive or forget there's no reset button.
Recently he reached out but it's been too long,
He's a rolling stone, something like that old school song.
There's no love and I wouldn't cry a tear if he were lying here with,
No breath, cold flesh and a suit on. So who's wrong,
Is it me for my defiance or him for being unreliant. Yea we're both grown men,
But I had to show him that he can't just come and go on his own whim.
So should I give him the cold shoulder just to spite him,
Or give him a second chance just to show I'm not like him.
I think I'll spite him just because I don't like him,
And besides my life has been good despite him.

Jamie is a father himself now, and struggling. He has no male footprint to follow. He wants to be a real parent, but he is unsure of the path to take. Has he learned from his own life? About the code of street dress (sneaks and jeans)? What about violence? Just what does being a man mean? He desperately wants to be a good dad but, just what is a good dad?

We have a multitude of young dads and step dads at QUEST, most do not have appropriate role models on which to base their own masculinity. I am female, I can talk, I can help, but I can't model. I am the wrong sex! We need more men of all ages and colors stepping forward to run a men's group. And please, don't write me to say they have to be black in order to help. We must show our youth a way to go that encompasses all peoples. Let us not have that rigid segregation again.

This time, the color codes are being pushed by the black community. Separate but equal is sooo over. I have a young black artist of 16 who has drawn many posters which I have hung in my office. "I am a NEGRO" says one, and "Black on Black needs to STOP" says another. It seems to me this young man has found a language for now -- right now. Remember, "I have seen the enemy and it is me?" Sometimes, we fail ourselves much more than society fails us. I know you're thinking, "What is wrong with this woman? She's crazy. For months, she has been on a rant about the community failing our youth and now she says, 'Look in the mirror.' "

Well folks, you're partially correct. Yes, the community has failed, is failing, but some of these kids are succeeding anyway; they have left racism behind and excuses and they are doing some exciting new things. And the language and the poetry and the struggle is breathtaking. But, does it have to be so isolated, so prodigiously hard? We could learn some 21st century wisdom from them but they in turn could get some basic life lessons from us. And no, I'm not talking anger and hate and get back, get even, hate acceptance, acceptance of who you are and who you want to become and some good nuts and bolts about raising a child.

We have another young man who is struggling mightily to be both a good father and stepfather to two young boys. Miles just ended his stint at parole yesterday. For the first time in nine years, he is off the books, out of the system and beginning life anew with a clean and sparkling slate. He could certainly use some one-on-one right now. Neither he nor I want him to slip back to the streets.

Tonight, he took his girlfriend of seven years and his two young sons out to dinner. A modest place, a buffet setting, but definitely a celebration. Tomorrow, I will give him a hug and a handshake, and if things go well for both he and QUEST, a raise in the fall. He still has anger issues but is quick to recover himself and hold out the hand of reconciliation. He is able to apologize, and has one of the most amazing smiles this old white woman has ever seen.

I remember the beginnings of our journey and how some of his own family warned me about his prowess with knife and fists. He had some violent moments in his past and initially thought QUEST was a pretty dumb place to visit. Now, eight years down the road, he lays himself on the line for our kids (and everybody else's) every day. He hits the streets and tries to talk sense into young men who ultimately have no sense. He is a stand-in father for many, many young men. But, there is no one who is a stand-in parent for him. He stumbles and gets up and, like the Energizer Bunny, he is still going. His salary is small but his persona is enormous. Boys say to me, "You have Miles, he'll hold it down." And he does. Every day. And I want to say to you Miles, "Thank You." Our journey isn't over yet, and hopefully we will continue to travel on together."

We have many young fathers at QUEST; they bring their children, they bring their significant others. They throw the football, they bring bikes and teach their kids and everyone else's how to ride. They stand with their arms folded across their chests and trade gossip and insults. Sometimes they wrestle each other like two 12-year-olds and I have to step in and yell, "No play fighting!" They are seeking, seeking acceptance, knowledge and support. Some have jobs, others do not. They ask, "Need any help? I need a job." I respond, "Find me a funder and I'll hire you!" They sigh, they help clean up, they eat with us. They have no place in ordinary life. What we take for granted, they desperately want to be part of. A job, a home, a family. A life. We have left them outside the gates looking in. Help me to open the door and say, "Come on in. We have been waiting for you."

"We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness."
-- Thich Nhat Hanh