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Painting ~ Return of the Prodigal ~ Il Guercino
Returning from the land of my rebellion,
in rags that reek of pigs and sweat and mud.
Now penniless, I’ve been a hell-bent hellion,
wasting the fortune of my flesh and blood.
But now considering my distant father;
how could I dare to think he’ll have me back?
I’ll plead to serve as slave and be no bother;
even his hired workers have no lack.
I journey home rehearsing all I’ve done:
“Father, I’ve sinned against heaven and you –
No longer worthy to be called your son.”
My voice goes numb when home comes into view.
My fears fly when I see my father’s face
and weep in his forgiving, kind embrace.
written 8 Sep 2020
Copyright © John Watt | Year Posted 2020
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