Monday, June 1, 2015

Lonely Lover & Caged Love

In May 2015, Clayton's wife wrote a note on Facebook called "Lonely Lover," and then printed out this post and sent it to Clayton.  She never expected him to write and send its counterpart in the mail, but he did.  Clayton and his wife would now like to share these posts together on the blog, in an effort to show some of the emotions that loved ones on opposite sides of the prison walls must deal with.  They feel that these pieces will always belong together. 

Lonely Lover - May 11, 2015

I sit in my living room, letting the sounds of spring wash over me.  Despite the sunny sky, the sound of rain fills my ears, first gently then pounding.  The small droplets run in rivulets down the glass windows on one side of my house.  I wish he were here.  

If my lover were here, I would sit in his lap.  I would whisper into his ear about what I hear; the sounds that he usually cannot detect.  He would hold me in his strong arms as we sat quietly.  No need to rush.  No need to to busy ourselves with anything other than watching the Earth wake up from its dark Alaskan slumber.

He was taken from me; just as surely as our daughter was taken so many years ago now.  I turn a thankful face to the sky that the world can no longer harm her the way it harms him each day.  They stole his life in her name; with deceit and trickery.  I am powerless to save either of them.  

I am never alone, and always lonely.  My heart aches beneath my smile, and my spirit trembles behind the strength I show the world.  We are persecuted, slandered, and tormented.  My daughter’s life is twisted into a vile mockery of her true former beauty.  I remind myself daily that it does not matter what the world believes.  Our God knows our story.  My lover knows my heart and I know his.  

But he is not here with me.  There are whispers of him everywhere I look.  He built the planter boxes on my porch; eagerly awaiting the young plants they will house beneath the sun and rain.  He sat and read in this chair beside me, and laughed at my continual antics.  He made this house my home.  

Some cannot bear the pain of being here.  The whispers bring them too much pain.  I cannot bear to lose them or leave them.  They are all I have left.  Unlike our daughter, I am blessed with more than just boxes of old photographs or plaster molds of hands and feet.  I live for the brief time each night in which I am allowed to see him.  

In those moments, he is still not allowed to be my lover.  He must lock away all but the most basic aspects of himself.  He can embrace me briefly as he comes and goes.  He cannot hold me.  He cannot tickle me.  He cannot carry me when I am weak.  I can see the pain in his eyes when he sees me limping, and the fear when he sees my exhaustion.  

My lover is my strength.  For many years now, he has carried me when I could not walk.  He shouldered burdens I could not carry.  He reminded me to take my medications, and leaned me against him when I no longer had the strength to stand.  He is still my strength.  My love for him fuels my every action, and safeguards my every word.

As the sounds of the rain slowly tapers off, so do the tears upon my cheeks.  My lover would not want me to wallow in my grief.  I hear his voice whisper to me as it has for so many years, “Take your medicine.  Eat something.  What are you going to do today?”

Today, I take on the world again.  I fight until the day he comes home to me.  

Author: Christiane Allison
Date: May 11, 2015
Location: Wasilla, AK

Caged Love - May 21, 2015

I sit in my cell, letting the sounds of the prison roll past me.  The babble of voices, the jingle of keys, the clatter of dice.  I can see the rain rolling across the sky out the windows high above me.  I wish I was with her.  

If I was not caged here, I would be spending this moment with her.  I would hold her tightly and we would watch the sky together.  We wouldn't need words to speak with each other.  

They took me away from my loved ones.  The reason they say is that I supposedly harmed my precious daughter whom I lost long ago.  I cannot explain adequately with words how wrong they are.  I am powerless to stop them or to change my fate.  

I am never alone and always lonely.  My love longs to be free from this cage I am in.  Everyday I am treated like, and surrounded by, some of the worst criminal offenders imaginable.  My only salvation, my God and Her.  She knows my heart as I know hers.  

But I am not with her.  I currently reside behind these concrete walls and razor topped fences.  When I wake in the morning before the dreams fade I reach out for her.  I awake to the cage.  

Many cannot handle living in the cage.  The whispers and pointed looks harm as surely as sticks and stones.  Many have nothing left; everything has been taken.  I live for the brief time each night when I can see her.  When she can be held and does not disappear like a wraith in the night.  

Even in this moment, with her in my arms I must be careful.  The cage has rules that must be followed.  The threat, losing the "privilege" to see her.  I gladly, with a smile, suffer any and all indignities and barbs for this chance to see her.  

My heart aches knowing I cannot be there for her like the times of old days past.  I want to be the one she leans on and give her my strength when she is weak.  Her pain is my pain for we are one.  

She is my love, my precious one.  We walked together through a tough and wandering road.  Just when the sunlight was shining through the clouds I was taken from the road.  Now I sit here in my cage, dreaming of the day when we can walk that road together again.  

Author: Clayton Allison
Date: May 21, 2015
Location: Goose Creek Correctional Center, Wasilla, AK

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