Incarcerated poetry
It is important to us that incarcerated individuals are able have their voices heard. By listening to and relaying their stories through our writings and events, we hope to recognize some of the most silenced members of our society. We believe compassion and second chances go hand-in-hand with justice and rehabilitation. Punishment alone cannot cure the sources of society's ills; true solutions can only come from understanding, and true understanding is only possible through empathy. The dignity of justice-involved, incarcerated, and formerly incarcerated individuals is not just our moral imperative, it is essential for societal progress.
“There comes a point where we need to stop just pulling people out of the river. We need to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.”
- Bishop Desmond Tutu
Poems from Maine State Prisoners
By Gordon Perry
Spring, 2025
Rising voices break the silence, fierce and unafraid,
Inked in truth, in justice, in stories long delayed
Painting worlds, where gender and self can freely be,
Pages filled with echoes of strength and dignity.
Lifting the unheard, the unseen, the denied, the forgotten,
Emerging ripples target righteousness, dignity, and respect, forge to slowly fade
Originally shared in Ripple, a social justice zine published by the University of Maine, Augusta.
Ora et Labora
Ora et Labora is a journal rooted in dignity, justice, & transformation. Latin for “Pray & Work,” we amplify the voices of those directly impacted by the American criminal legal system. Our mission is to cultivate a space for healing, advocacy, spirituality, resistance, & labor toward a freer nation. This newsletter is rooted in the belief that the balance of reflection & action—prayer & labor—is a powerful path to personal growth & collective healing. Whether you’re returning home from incarceration, supporting those who are, or simply striving for balance & purpose, Ora et Labora is your companion in the journey.
By Dereck Anderson
12/15/08
Flags
Religion
and
Culture
How fowl. Why revere
the incision of the fangs and the talons
called government and false pride
that has decimated
hope and impaired the impairable
recognized as God’s design.
Handed down, like hand-me downs
shabby ideals and illusions of
equality.
In mixed matched
colors
sick with patriotism.
Charming lost souls
in the name of God, country, dogma
and riches.
To processions of early manicured mass graves
decorated with ribbons
and tin metal symbols
of cynicism.
How fowl. See what I see
is the prayer
of little hands not being reached
and the
tears of stained heels of little children, not being wipes
screaming for their mommies
and daddies
coming home in pieces
to no peace.
See, I can see
the empty bags of the Red Cross
and
no Salvation for any
Army,
being brokered by any God, that’s
any good.
But what I
Kant see.
is flags
that promote
peace.
True religion
that promotes
God,
and most importantly
(a) culture
that promotes
unity,
that we call
civilization.
So what
have we
learned?
Indocile.
