This is Wilbert Sanders, Jazz the Poet, with “The Visitor.”
While captured in the world of hard knocks, behind steel doors with electronic locks, fences topped off with razor wire, a living hell without the fire, surrounded by gangsters, viscous killers, stalkers, fiends, and drug dealers, plus convicted rapists and pedophiles constantly staring with crooked smile.
After multiple years of abuse of captivity, castration from family and modern society, it’s difficult maintaining one sanity. In order to enlighten my atmosphere on bended knees, I meditate in prayer, attempting to penetrate God’s holy air, the hour late and the cell lot tight.
So I decided to sleep for the night, but woke up later to strange sounds causing me to rise and look around—and greatly shocked and surprised to see an angel in the cell with me with broken wings, a bruised head, exhausted eyes were bloodshot red. Without a doubt, my angel was hurt. Self-emaciated, covered in dirt. Excited and nervous, I lost my breath, thinking he was an angel of death.
Quietly, he stated: “Have no fear. Although your living conditions are severe, you’ve been placed here because I care. Arrangements were made for your arrest since you weren’t living at your best. You’ve ignored your teachings of our savior, became reckless and wild in your behavior. Your heart and mind turned corrupt, you would have self-destructed. It’s very important to understand you’re included in a long-term plan. My visit- my reason for visiting isn’t to criticize; it’s an intervention to open your eyes. The few bruises I’m sure you see, came from fighting your demons ferociously, which will heal in about a day: a special component in my DNA. This is a very unique circumstance. You’re blessed to receive a second chance.”
Next he prayed and embraced very tight and I slept soundly until daylight. In the morning, I woke up in an empty cell wondering a dream or a visitor, I couldn’t tell. So I made sure the door was secure and found a dirty feather on the floor.
These commentaries are recorded by Noelle Hanrahan of Prison Radio.