Prison

 

No choice,
That’s what prison is,
No visible walls,
No razor wire necessary,
I can see beauty beyond beauty,
All available,
And, yet,
I have placed myself here,
In a prison of my own making,
Cigarettes,
Alcohol,
Drugs,
Sex,
Abuse,
Some of these lead,
To real prison,
Where others make choices for me,
The only one,
The only ONE,
Who can free me…
Is God!
My Maker,
Christ!
My Redeemer!
Amen!
Please, say it with me!
Amen!

 

Peter Lowell Paulson
September 6, 2013



Somewhere in my “Journal” that daughter Debbie gave me I have made reference to this (most of it has to do with the fact that ALL poems have a genesis, and this one started by reading the first chapter of the book, "The Racketeer", by John Grisham, and about prison.  I started to think about prisons that we all make.  I was overwhelmed.  I needed to write this poem.