Poem: Modern Prodigal Found

I was there to gamble

and drink whiskey.

I was there to bet

on Major Thunder

at the infamous derby.

Until a jarring sound

from a megaphone

invaded my ears.

A burly bearded man preached:

“Repent or you will perish!”

I took a shot of whiskey

To numb the convicted soul.

I voiced with the crowd:

“Go home preacher man!”

As we sneered him down.

But knew deep down

I had no home.

I was the—Prodigal Son.

For a few years

That conviction echoed

in the chamber

of my broken heart.

One day I prayed:

Instead of an alcohol buzz

To ward off the superego

Fill me with the Holy Ghost.

And I said, “Amen.”

I was finally home.

The rest is history.

Thank you Jesus.

Poem by Chad A. Damitz