If I had three wishes
I’d give them back because
I’d always be known
as the girl who’d blown
on money, the chance to fly, and a free meal until I die.
I’d wish for money – not endless amounts but just
enough to pay my loans, buy my parents’ house for them and get my master’s degree;
I’d wish for a lifetime supply
of tickets to fly
anywhere in the world
(business class, of course)
I’d use my final wish on food;
a five-star restaurant meal in France – repeated just once a year until I die.
Now you think I’ve wasted them on the trivial,
that I’ve not asked for enough, that I’ve been self-centered,
you despair at the smallness of my mind
in wishing for
money, the chance to fly, and a free meal until I die
but wait, here’s why:
some might say I should wish for
but then where would we be?
all people would probably have to die
did God not decide to do salvation that way in the first place?
What would a socio-economic clean-up really mean;
what would the end of poverty
take away from us?
I can’t try fix it all when I don’t know what further squall my fixes might create;
there’s just one God and I don’t really want his job.
So should I wish for sleep
- gosh that would be nice -
or no more zesa cuts
or a Zimbabwe free from those mutts who call themselves our leaders.
Should I wish for safety for the ones whose souls I care about?
would that sort our problems out
or take their chance at life away?
Should I ask for no more pain?
For universal pardon?
For longer life
or death at birth?
I’d like to wish for no more fear
but then who would I be
without my anxiety.
Because, you see,
if I wished for what I really want,
if I used my three free wishes to ask for peace and certainty,
to ask above all things for truth,
then that would be the end of the real me.
And in reality
I have a life to live
and I don’t want to know the future
or how heavy the world really is.