I Have Gone Before Judge's Since Age Nine Poem by James McLain

they sat up there
high and clean,
robes that reeked of power
and I stood down below,
a kid,
hands in pockets
or chained behind my back.

since nine, it was always the same—
the faces changed,
but the eyes,
they stayed cold as stone.

I learned young
not to look for mercy,
not to plead,
just nod
and listen to them talk about me
like I wasn't there,
like I was dirt,
a problem they had to sweep away.

smoke breaks behind the courthouse,
I watched men in suits laugh,
their cigars thick in the air.
they didn't see me,
or maybe they did
and didn't care.

since nine, I never knew the rules,
but the rules don't know me.
I walk in and out,
just waiting for the time
I won't walk out at all.