My Folsom Prison Blues Poem by Curtis Johnson

It is 9: 17am on Wednesday, October 14,2020.
As I was leaving Folsom after an early morning doctor's appointment,
I crossed a very familiar intersection that I have traversed many times
before. But this time was different, and I could say it was different for
"whatever reasons", but realistically that would not be completely true.
What is clear to me is that there are issues that go unresolved or matters
unsettled and unsatisfied inside of us that surface occasionally uninvited by us.

Anyway, as I was about to say, tears began to form as a memory invaded my
mind that took me back more than 20 years ago to Folsom State Prison.It was
there that my daughter's husband and father of our first grandchild was incarcerated.
I reflected on the many times that I had taken my daughter and their son to visit him.
The tears were not so much about them as it was about a complaint I had with the Lord,
and about which He was very familiar.It was not the first time that thoughts of this nature
surfaced, but this time was very emotional as I reiterated to The Lord that I could not understand
why all of our three children went astray and have been reaping the consequences of their choices.
Why wasn't our daughter and older son more discriminating in their choices of a husband and
wife?Why did our youngest son choose to go down the dark allies of alcohol abuse? Why? Why? Why?

We did our best to rear them in the ways of God, and I honestly felt that we were being
short-changed. These are the 46 words, accompanied with tears, that I uttered to The Lord as I
drove through Folsom today:"Why, Lord? We did all that we thought proper and right. Lord, after
all these years, I still do not understand, and I am not certain that I ever will.Perhaps eternitywill be more revealing, but I'm not certain that it will even matter then."

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