IMPRISONMENT

The ludicrously sanitised terminal act of legal condemnation
Society’s desperate final sanction of judicially mediated retaliation,
Bedecked and garlanded, dripping with scarlet pomp, bewigged gravity,
Self-serving censure, the perceived hallmark of civilisation and humanity.

Enshrined from Magna Carta, direct precursor of order and stability,
Designed to misdirect uncritical minds with an illusion of infallibility.
The evolved legislature, flanked by magistracy and the judiciary
That imposing edifice of a perfect system: society the unquestioning beneficiary.

Walls and wire, bars and brutality, dogs and despair, helplessness.
Total terror, trapped bewilderment, intimidation and isolation, hopelessness.
Locks, keys, cells, constant surveillance, petty rules mindlessly applied.
Depersonalisation, lack of dignity, all important human values totally denied.

A captive body, the spirit crushed, individuality completely banished.
Every vestige of self-respect removed, every ounce of dignity vanished.
Oppressive apathy drains every drop of enterprise from a prisoner’s soul,
Institutionalising, debasing, uncaring, unkind, which undermines the whole

That intangible line of infinite length, which separates this scum from humanity,
Dividing those who are worthy of respect from those who only merit profanity,
Passing parallel to the prison gate, it divides real life from mere subsistence,
An event horizon which precludes return to any previous meaningful existence.

That communal indignation, whipped to crescendo by the gutter press,
No thoughts of rehabilitation, only retaliation and revenge no matter what distress,
Pandering to basest instincts, goal of tabloid writer’s labours,
Driving a wedge of shame between man and wife, father and son, friends and neighbours.

This then, our penal system, constructed with one inherent major flaw.
A dilemma unsuspected by most unless well versed in the law.
While serving the sentence and in prison cell pent,
Consider the incumbent’s situation – if truly innocent.

Progression through the prison system is dependent on one condition.
That is an admission of your guilt, doing your penance, expressing contrition.
If really not guilty as charged truly innocent, what choices for you?
Stagnate? Be sidelined? Is this the ultimate catch 22?

Because, once convicted, you are undeniably unquestionably guilty.
This, our infallible system which has no concessions to its own frailty.
Authority’s ears are deaf to this situation’s exposition,
Without this there is no parole, no possible remission.

What then, to lie? To concur with the allegation?
This, the price required to obtain your ultimate salvation?
Victim empathy is therefore required to be both invented and expressed.
Grovelling courses of contrition completed, hoops to jump through, a balance to be redressed.

So, what paradox this? That requires and rewards active deception.
Is this now a fundamental requirement of the modern penal conception?
The only way forward to progress – should you want to get out,
Is to lie through your teeth, truthful values to flout.

If, with any remaining self respect you maintain that the truth matters,
Then stick to your guns, keep your pride, though your life is in tatters.
All hopes then turn to the Royal Courts of Appeal,
You expect a considered hearing-of course not – get real!

For once tried and convicted and verdict of guilt delivered,
By a select and virtuous twelve, all available evidence considered.
Your appeal court entreaties, destined almost certainly to be spurned,
You’ll be as likely to win the lottery as get that verdict overturned.

How gross this knee-jerk reaction, retribution from offended society,
For wrongful conviction of an uncommitted offence, what price propriety?
What price to compensate a man so wrongly traumatised?
Perhaps the price for persuading ourselves that we aspire to be civilised.

Peter Hakala