SOUTHWEST IDAHO JUVENILE DETENTION CENTER

Teaching-Writer Laura Roghaar

Enrique Money wasn’t rare, but it wasn’t easy. Mom walked to jobs. Dad let for a long visit to the prison again. Grandma prayed that my mom and I would get better. During summer I would ride my bike down the block to the corner store like most kids. In my neighborhood you heard everything, cats hissing, dogs barking when people walked down the alley. Shots so close you ducked, but knowing you were safe in the house. The corner store always getting robbed. People ighting in the streets. I hope my kids can play in the streets and yard without worrying about thugs coming around in a car. I hope. I pray.

Koby I was on this wide and deep dirt road, tracking down a wounded deer. The blood trail was fresh. You could smell blood and sagebrush in the air. It led me up. It led me down. It lead me back and forth, its blood on the ground. This beautiful buck, a 4x3, had been hit in the lungs. But with its inal breath it ran and stopped then got back up. Ran two miles more. As it laid down for its inal rest I could hear its breath coming in and out. I snuck up and inished the job, saying Thank you, God, for the meat you have provided me and may this deer rest in peace. As I packed up to go it was getting dark and the sun was low. You could hear howls from the wolves nearby. I had my gun loaded by my side. As I ran my buck back to my truck I looked at the horizon and could see it. It lited its head and howled up to the sky. And with one motion I started to ride.

Luis In this one I see my son Barely learning to walk In this one I see him crying ‘cause he fell Down In this one I see him in the summer so bright Hot on a nice summer day In this one I see him smiling in the grass Long, green, plenty of cottontails getting brushed and blown away As he runs through In this one I see him dreaming in the night Snug in bed with his elephant nightlight Peaceful and full of imagination and happiness Like I once was

Luz I sit there and think maybe I should clean I start to sweep watch all the dirt on high alert move to the other side of the room with the broom. Grab the dustpan and put the mugre in the trash. I use the mop to polish up and then I’m done but with my luck there’s more dust and rust by dawn so I get angry and I don’t want to do anything, but it feels more deep and I don’t give up on

cleaning.

Meklú I was six years old. It almost seemed to be an execution, having to take the trash out in a globe full of darkness over twinkling stars. I remember my heart playing jump rope, begging to get out of my chest, The click sound from the door handle talking when I opened it, the coldness of the pavement eating at my bare feet, and then, the yells and sirens from the crickets telling me to go inside. Warning me of the Monster, Monster that hides in the darkness.

Tamica They are meant to grow in uncommon growing places, kind of like what Tupac said about the rose that grew from concrete, defeating all of Nature’s laws. Like the lower I could push myself to gro in places that are almost impossible to grow in. Wildlowers only need certain essentials like light through dark times and water, to purify. Soil to hold on to and grow with.