a poem in my pocket

wiry little boy with glasses
grew to be prison chaplain,
found his niche ministering
[ to guys inside the walls ]

make one bad decision
or follow foolish friends
and train ride ends with
[ time inside the walls ]

they have watched men die
but won’t cry, except to see
another sinner get baptized;
[ set free inside the walls ]

we’ve been taken through;
frisked before entering gate,
blessed to worship too with
[ church inside the walls ]

Melissa hosts poetics at the pub with Johnny Cash singing his Folsom Prison Blues…