🌃 Forced To Relive The Trauma Of A Manipulated Unfair Trial Seven Times A Year 🌉 Poem by James McLain

Dear Reader,

How does one pen the unspeakable? To endure injustice not once, but repeatedly—like a cruel wind that circles back to shred what little is left of a tattered soul.

The echoes of a manipulated trial, the mockery of fairness, reverberate through me like a wound that refuses to heal.

Nightmares are my inheritance;
they come cloaked in shadows, forcing me to relive the horror—of rapes endured in the cold confines of a cell, of the crushing silence of three years in solitary, where time itself became a tormentor.

Judge Manuel Menendez Jr., a specter of power misused, and States Attorney Cynthia Heir, wielding her authority like a weapon, haunt my waking hours as much as my dreams.

I am scarred by the past, yet forced to face it again and again.
Seven times a year, my mind and body are dragged through the fire.

PTSD is my constant companion, a relentless whisper reminding me of every violation, every indignity.

The system that should have shielded me became my jailer, my tormentor.

Yet even in the depths of this despair, I cling to one fragile hope:
that my voice, hoarse and trembling, might someday be heard.

That someone, somewhere, will see the inhumanity of this cycle and rise to break it.
Until then, I write—not for absolution, but for survival.

Yours forever in anguish,
James McLain