I
They rise early gather ID prepare
for the tedious much awaited
and never missed
weekly visit.
On arrival they face abuse long delays
the humiliation of being searched
and may even be turned away
on some minor pretext
that is not negotiable.
The ever-present guards
with guns and sniffer dogs
ensure no gifts no privacy
no intimacy.
Chatter clatter
and cigarette smoke
fill the crowded room.
With pain in their hearts
and sometimes misty eyes
they talk mostly superficially
they joke mostly to cover feelings
they eat mostly to kill time
they play to keep kids occupied.
Exhausted they face
the return journey
and the sad week ahead.
Their loved one is searched
to ensure no contraband
has been passed.
Each mentally marks off
one more week.
II
The toddler is excited
to see Daddy
cuddles and kisses him.
He didn’t like the first place
where they were caged
with other families
sat at tables and chairs
bolted to the floor
were not allowed food
or drink.
Now he plays on swings
until driven back to the warmth
by cutting winds drizzle
and stinging nose.
He avoids the rough kids
wanders around the room
entertains prisoners
and their visitors
explores picnic baskets
and wonders why his dad
and the men in green
live there and not at home
with their families.
c. Kathryn Coughran
First published: 1994
In: Family Matters
(Kathryn Andersen)