“But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father's hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet.And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.
“Now his older son was in the field, and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf, because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, ‘Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’”Luke 15:17-32
Standing at a distance
fists knotted stiff by my side
the house exploding joy
doors slamming everyone rushing
I wish to walk away
from this celebration.
Jealous, green deep and rolling
a tidal wave in my belly
rolling over and over tears
sting hot and dry to bitter
salt on my face.
Blood like my blood, ruddy complexion
like mine too, a strong body thinned
by depravity and disease running
weeping to my father's arms.
The arms that won't even reach out
pat me on the back, nor lend a hand
when down and covered in the sweat dirt
of his rich fields and my duty
I am never drawn to his chest as
he holds him now.
I want to know love like the lost
the belligerent the toddler
turned terrorist turning our family upside
down aching for the lost broken child.
Oh father, I too am broken and lost
I am sinking to my knees in my own sorrow
it lies like a blanket wt and warm over me
night and day I cry for the embrace
the assurance of love.
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