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Prose of a Con

Poetry and Prose by Russell Wardlow

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My Two Sons

January 26, 2020 by Russell Wardlow Leave a Comment

My two sons are so beautiful but my past is so ugly tho my future is starting to resemble every bit of beauty that my kids are

figuring out how to piece together being a distant imprisoned father is like a jigsaw

so in my own heart I connect with them by staying up on all the latest Pixar

animal past, animated man, animation blaring on my TV screen, first thing seen, coming in from the big yard

Moana on freeform tonight, I’ll catch my other shows later

because I need to know the names of some of these movies in case I’m ever asked which one is my favorite

Buy a few songs from the movie, memorize them so I can sing along

I been through real prison moments, but these ones specifically are what make me feel strong mentality of being a father first and an inmate last

helps propel me beyond my past

shaping me for the day I walk beyond this grass

hugging my kids for what seems like seconds comparatively to the minutes engaged after the longest years apart, thinking why now does time suddenly fly so fast

then my mind goes back

to those moments without and wanting this one to last

yet worried if it’ll ever return like so many dependable ghosts from my past tears arrive on the crest but I have to subside and hide those back

telling my sons “I love you” and hearing them like “dad, I know that”

but deep down inside knowing they really don’t yet, full of blissful child-like innocence just enjoying the company of a man they naturally love that their mother’s once considered a psychopath

be present Russ, don’t fade like the past you

emote, project love, don’t let them feel that doubt cycling inside you

embrace showing them where they get it from, that missing link and how much you are just like them priceless the moment when they realize the me that’s deep inside them

I may have not been there to teach them to ride bikes but I’ll be there to ride right beside them striving to maintain love and excitement just like them

real parents learn from their kids while teaching them away from the wrongs we’ve already paved

I been there and done that sons, so you don’t have to guess now, you know what this looks like, please don’t go that way

one day I may watch my sons dance on stage, score touchdowns or pitch no hitters

but wherever they are that I can see, I’ll make sure to also be there when they are feeling the loneliest

my future passions mirror my dreams now,

and they no longer feel like pieces of a jigsaw because put together they paint such a beauty resembling every bit of perfection that my kids are

I can’t wait to live life and love wit yaw

run rave and reel a few Pixar’s

or movies for big boys and take a few pictures

wrestling around disguised as dads big hugs

but I won’t pretend whenever I kiss yaw

sippin milkshakes thru big straws

I missed the rocket games like 5 4 3 2 1 lift off!

daydreaming of future days with u two I tend to drift off

ever since i met then left u I been having withdrawals

parenting comes with flaws

but I see none within yaw

I pray u won’t be bitter but better

because I know where you’re headed

sons, real love isn’t measurable

so never let anyone’s conditional or lack of love measure u

I love you Josiah and Treyvan.

Filed Under: Culture, Inside, Love, Spirit

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Prose of a Con

Prose of a Con is a collection of Russell Wardlow’s prose and poetry written entirely behind bars. Through writings on family, spirituality, freedom, love, justice, redemption, and vulnerability, Russell seeks to show the humanity and hope of individuals like himself who are incarcerated.

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