Daleen Enslinstrydom (25-02-1967 / Springs, South Africa)
The prodigal son
His mind wanders back to the time of leisure
when he did live as the wealthy son of a lord,
when days were spent lazing around,
filled with all the good life had to offer
but he wanted more,
more than what a county-boy could long for;
he insisted and claimed what he thought
was rightfully his,
he ordered a tailor to make the best garments
that money could buy,
had a goldsmith make goblins fit for a king,
he travelled and stayed in the best inns,
gambled, squabbled, drank and ate all day long
as if he had no worries at all,
he associated with the cream of the social inner circle:
ambassadors, advisors of the king and the royalty.
Money spent and not earned soon ran out
and he had to sell his belongings to sustain this new life
but eventually he had nothing left
and he asked for help but help did not come,
in despair all his glory and wealth was gone
and he was left without friends.
As he looked around him
tears of sorrow flooded his eyes,
he no longer had a place to call home
and he was very alone.
Heavy laden and burdened with guilt
he knew that even a servant
at his fathers mansion ate better.
He broke down and cried:
"Lord, forgive me for I have sinned."
The journey home was difficult
and his shoulders hanged
while he walked like a old man,
his eyes was turned down
and he did not see his father.
He heard a voice,
strong arms embraced him
and even before looking up
his father kissed him on his dirty face
and lift him from the ground
as he did when he was still a little boy.
He heard his dad's strong voice rejoicing:
"My prodigal son has returned,
he was lost but has been found."
Comments about this poem (The prodigal son by Daleen Enslinstrydom )
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