The Corrections Officer's Creed I walk through the gate of wrought iron, under arbors of razor wire. The clanging shut of all the gates, is the start of my day. Wondering some where deep in my mind if I will walk out the same way. Voices raised in anger, are the first words of my day, garbage flying down from the tiers reign upon my head. Words of hate and ridicule are their daily song. Why you here boss man? What did you do wrong? Not a blessed thing Human rights are a funny thing, guaranteed to us at birth. But as a guard within these walls, I am sorely hurt, I am spit upon, and cursed out loud. Have urine thrown upon me. All of this is by the ones, the government says should not be free. I guard the lowest of earth's scum, the guilty and the judged. Who have more rights than me. I spend my life as a free man, yet behind these walls of concrete and steel is where I am condemned to be. And all for the simple reason the inmates can not be freed. The bleeding hearts and liberal officials. Value the convict more than me. I am not a police officer, and often held with distaste. I go to work everyday, never a prayer is said. You don't hear the wishes of please be safe. No one ever remembers me. As long as no inmate dies, as long as none escapes. Don't admit that they exist. You can safely sleep. I am there when you least care. To serve and to protect. I don't where the badge so bold, or carry a gun at my side. I only have my wits with me, to help me to survive. So when you hear of a corrections officer don't look upon us with disdain. We are not just security guards. We are the ones that keep this land from going totally insane. The Correctional Officer's Prayer Lord, when it's time to go inside, That place of steel and stone. I pray that you will keep me safe, So I won't walk alone. Help me to do my duty, Please watch me on my rounds. Amongst those perilous places And slamming steel door sounds. God, Keep my fellow Officers Well and free from harm. Let them know I'll be there too, Whenever there's alarm. Above all when I walk my beat, No matter where I roam. Let me go back whence I came, To family and home. By Lt. Larry Peoples - Florida Department of Corrections
Meeting Thy God The Corrections Officer stood and faced his God,
which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining, just as brightly as his brass. "Step forward now, Corrections Officer. How shall I deal
with you? Have you always turned the other check?
To my church have you been true?" The Corrections Officer squared his shoulders and said, "No, Lord
I guess I ain't, because those of us who carry badges
can't always be a Saint. I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my work was rough,
and sometimes I've been violent. Because inside the walls
are awful tough. But I never took a penny, that wasn't mine to keep,
I worked a lot of overtime,
when the bills just got too steep. And I never passed a cry for help, though at
times I shook with fear, and sometimes, God forgive me,
I wept unmanly tears. I know I don't deserve a place among the people here.
They never wanted me around except to calm their fears. If you've a place for me here, Lord, it needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
but if you don't I will understand." There was silence all around the Throne, where the
Saints often trod. As the Corrections Officer waited
quietly for the judgment of his God. "Step forward now, Corrections Officer, you've borne
your burdens well. Come walk a beat on Heaven's streets,
you've done your time in Hell." Unknown Author The features of Local 494 are listed below:
"I will never balance the budgeton your (Corrections Employees) backs"
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