The Story of the Prodigal — 2

The mother’s side of the conversation …

Go to the door,
no, go into the road —
you know you want to.
He’s there, just where the dust
is stirring such a storm.
He’s there — it’s not a trick
of your eyes from so long looking
west into the setting sun.

Remember how he would
run to you and
hang in hugs around your neck.
Go out — he’s dying in the road
for love,
and all the wrong turnings
in his life are tight —
he knows the truth.

Of course, he’s ready for your anger.
I bet he’s rehearsed
remorse
with every step.
Surprise him — take the sandals.

No, I don’t think you look old.
I love the gray —
it looks like feathers
here and here … distinguished.
This time don’t let him run
through your fingers —
here, don’t forget the ring!

I’m going to the kitchen.

Trust me, his brother will get over it.

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2 Responses to The Story of the Prodigal — 2

  1. Jan Fairchild says:

    Wonderful. Thank you.

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