Get Out of Jail

In 1973,
as a nine year old,
I sat in a church with my Grandmother.

The Sun streaming through the stained glass,
a bell choir,
hard wooden pews,
I was in the House of The Lord.

Behind my eyes,
sat a pain.
I asked God to please relieve me of the discomfort.
No shit,
in a few seconds the pain left me.

I would hate to think that God had one “get out of jail card” for me,
and I wasted it on a headache
when I was nine years old.



Filed under micro stories, outlaw poetry, poetry, Spirituality

4 responses to “Get Out of Jail

  1. Made me smile…. What we wouldn’t do for wishes to come true for the bigger things of life! 😉

  2. marcelino guerrero

    Well at least you got something, I used mine on a woman’s safe return home. After my wish was granted she left me!

  3. haha, I love your humour.

    I prayed to Santa instead of God.
    He never brought me that pedal car like I asked, and now I’m 30 and don’t have any car, nor know how to drive.

    Maybe that’s God’s way of saying “that’s what you get for worshipping false idols. Or no idols at all. And for liking Marilyn Manson”?

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