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THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN. ( part 1 )

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FATHER - are you still looking for - waiting - 
For the precious Prodigals - ( those caked in the mire 
Having squandered Your goodness ) ....to come home ?
Those caught in the lust of the world-
Exhausted by their extravagances - hollow laughter -
Flashy wallets - clothes - and wit .
Oblivious that their buddies - as once were - have gone .
Having melted away into their own shadows-
Seeking other's to leech upon -
Until they too are bled dry - wrung out - broken - desolate .
Leaving only swine - and stench for company now .
Even the bright lights - raucous music - crumpled sheets -
Switched off - silenced - gone .
Nothing left to attract the eye - empty pockets - poverty .
These make poor bed-fellows - for all those in its grip 
It excludes none.

But - oftimes it takes the desolation - miry clay - the pit
To bring about the needed jolt - to shake - recall .
To stir the ashes of  a long-past flame - awakening -
Faint - it may be - but better faint than no glimpse at all 
Of fields - not barren - nor smelling of swine -
But lush green - golden corn - barley - wheat .
With workers - singing as they cut deep into stalks of ripened grain 
Cheery Hello's as you acknowledge their tasks with nod or smile -
Seeing they were appreciated - fed - oftimes as trusty friends .
Their wellbeing - as if it were your own .

Yes - their lot was good - on your old father's farm -
They had no complaints - that were not fairly judged and rectified .
Were they not better off by far - than you  now are ?
Servants - slaves - stewards - call it what you will -
They worked - ate and slept - in quarters far better than you  now fare.
That much - any fool could comprehend .

Why have I waited so long ? - been such a fool ?
Was it self punishment - to castigate - reprove - a just desert ?
Or was it just my foolish pride - that holds me in its vice like grip.
That keeps me mired - in these filthy chains ?
The pigs could care less if I am here or not .
Their fate is sealed - they eat and die .
But Me - can this be my intended lot ?
To perish - in a foreign field - alone 
With no one to write one kind word on my epitaph .?


No - I will rise - I will go back - How can I lose ?
I will give my days - to the one who gave me life - my freedom - my all.
Father - I will say - I'm so sorry - so very - very sorry -
Sorry for being a failure - a wastral - a disgrace to your good name .
For dragging all that is good - down in the gutter - in the dregs .
Please - take me back  - as one of your hired men -
A slave .....


( part 2 to be continued   ...  )

by S.C.Mitchell.


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