{excuse me}
a courthouse poem
Welcome friends to Meditations in Blue, a serial memoir project documenting my time incarcerated and return to community through journal entries, poetry, essays, and art.
You are welcome to join the story at any point as it unfolds, but if you’d like to begin at the beginning, I have written an introduction here and the first journal entry begins on November 2, 2023.
Thank you so much for being here, bearing witness and building community for healing and transformation.
Since returning home from incarceration, I have found myself in many types of courtrooms to provide support to some of the women I served my time with and others I was assigned to mentor through Walk-a-Mile, a MDOC peer-mentoring initiative. (Due to funding cuts, the Walk-a-Mile program was shut down in April 2026.)
Entering courtrooms is not one of my favorite places to be, especially those first few visits brought up a lot of personal memories of my time and experiences in them that were difficult to manage. Since beginning a mindful art and writing practice while incarcerated, I have taken to carrying a pad of paper and pen with me wherever I go and when I begin to feel overwhelmed bring them out to help me cope and process the environment I am in.
As I found myself sitting in courtrooms more often, I questioned what my role was there— what purpose could I, as myself, serve when in that environment I had so little power? I began to understand that while I couldn’t change anything about what was unfolding around me, I could stay open, bear witness and tell the story. A courtroom reporter of sorts, but one that was focusing on the humanity of the individuals in the room and the impact that the system was having on them in the pursuit of “justice.” A courtroom poet you might say.
Like a poem, each page of these journals contains the invitation to a whole universe- one that is calling out, pleading, to be witnessed and seen. We cannot bring change to what remains hidden and silenced.
"Excuse me- do you know which court room is for adoptions?" An elderly woman approached, quiet, gentle, so sorry to disturb her voice said in tone if not words. I told her the court rooms are assigned by judge, not the type of case, if she knew her judges name, I could help her. She didn't know. She couldn't remember. As she slowly wheeled away on her walker my mind questions how we can be lost when the decision in balance is a child's life. My rage is not with the woman but a system so convoluted and nonsensical that even the most loving, committed grandmother is left out in the hallway confused, alone, and so very lost. October 2, 2024 Courtroom Poetry from Ingham County Courthouse
Thank you for being here with me, friends.
And until next time, much love.
"courtroom poet" is something that should be part of every system. i thank the Universe for you, anyakara, and for your insights and your contribution to the world.
There’s something deeply human in the way this stays beside what most systems try not to see.
The image of that grandmother lost in the hallway carries more truth about the violence of bureaucracy than many long arguments ever could. Not dramatic violence, but the quieter kind that leaves people confused, small, and alone while life-changing decisions move around them in language they cannot enter.
And I think the idea of becoming a “courtroom poet” instead of only a witness is beautiful. Not to explain the system, but to keep the humanity inside it from disappearing completely.