Yesterday I spoke with a Mother whose son was very recently incarcerated. As I listened to what she was saying and what she was unable to say, my heart broke for her. As shared her state of mind, after taking long moments to breathe, I could literally feel her pain. My mind, body and spirit traveled back to the day that I received the call that my son was incarcerated. My initial response was, "Can I talk to him?" My mother instinct called out to hear his voice. To know that he was physically okay. 

I wanted to go to where he was and hold him in my arms, like I did when he was a little boy and remind him that he was loved, To remind him that he has people who love him and will travel this journey with him. He is not the number that they assigned to him, he is my baby. He is fruit of my womb, and manifestation of my creative feminine power.

Every incarcerated person is a mother's child, a father's seed and a human deserving of basic human rights. Thousands of them have mothers outside the wall who spends most of their days praying for them, making sure that they have money on their books, encouraging family members to stay in communication with them. These precious people have been deemed "property of the state" but by universal law, they are OURS and we will fight for and with them ALWAYS.