“What does the sunflower on your shirt represent to you?” Says the WBNS 10 TV anchor. I’ve watched her on television for years but never imagined I’d be at a women’s prison being interviewed by her.

“It represents hope to me,” I say. “It represents a new beginning.”

I’m a Harmony Project choir singer at Madison Correctional Institution (MaCI). Today is June 02, 2026 and I’m at the 4th annual Sunflower Arts & Music Festival at the Ohio Reformatory for Women (ORW).

The festival is sponsored by Harmony and brings together three Ohio prisons MaCI, ORW and Pickaway Correctional (PCI). Columbus, Ohio based Harmony works within prisons and the Columbus community spreading a message of hope and unity through contemporary music.

“Where you are does not define who you are,” David Brown tells us. Brown is founder and director of Harmony and this refrain underpins Harmony’s prison arts program.

I’ve been a Harmony choir singer four years running. Today is my fourth time attending the festival and fourth time I’ll have presented a spoken word to the thousands in attendance.

I am filled with feelings of hope, joy, and unselfish love. The crowd is like family to me. My message today is designed to lift others and offer hope to those who have forgotten what hope feels like.

Before the day is over I’ll have spoken to the outgoing Ohio Director of Prisons Ms. Annette Chambers-Smith; the founder of Papa John’s Pizza; the CEO of Papa John’s Pizza; and the wardens of ORW and MaCI.

In the morning we gather in the ORW gymnasium along with PCI and ORW choirs. In attendance are dozens of important guests –from ODRC correctional leadership, to Harmony donors — all of whom make the day possible.

“Do you think we’ll get to see the children of Sunflower House?” I say, to my friend Corey.

“I hope so,” he says as we take seats at chairs on the gym floor.

Harmony has a longstanding relationship with the children’s Sunflower Hospice in Bloemfontein, South Africa. Last year we sang to them by video link and the children sang to us. It’s a moment that’s joyful and heavy for many of us.

In the morning the men’s choirs sing ‘Good News’ by Shaboozey and ‘Amen’ by Shaboozey and Jelly Roll to the guests and ORW choir. The ORW women sing an amazing rendition of the 70’s disco classic ‘Dancing Queen’. By the time they finish many of us are wiping away tears from our eyes.

We watch a prerecorded video from the children of Sunflower House singing and dancing for us. I can’t help but think of how there’s so much light in our world of shadows.

In the afternoon we assemble on the prison yard for a lawn concert rocking the crowd. All three choirs together sing several songs for the massive crowd. When we’re not singing several Ohio bands perform for us, cover songs the crowd knows by heart.

It is time for me to present my spoken word.

I stand upon the huge concert stage, mic in hand, big screen at my back and I look out upon the crowd. Cheerful voices reach me and waiving hands draw my attention. I can’t help but know, as every incarcerated person does, that there is a lot of trauma, longing, and sadness beneath many faces in the crowd.

My spoken word is for the outside guests in attendance who know not our struggles as incarcerated people — and for the crowd. Except, for us my message is one of hope that says, no matter who you are or what you are going through you are going to be okay. WE are going to be okay.

Shortly afterward it is time to go. The day has come to an end and we depart.

I peer through the steel mesh of the prison bus window and take in the passing countryside. I feel peace and contentment. My thoughts are on the many people I leave behind today.

For four years I have experienced this return ride back to my prison. I grow a little inside each time, but I heal more than anything.

*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.