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THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN. ( part 1 ) ****************************** 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. Please give feedback and sign my guestbook. THANK YOU . Vote for this poem
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