At A Prodigal's Banquet - Poem by Callie Carroll
Forgive me if I stare
at the fatted calf, the ring, the shoes,
the robe, ...... the empty chair.
You're not there, you're never there.
The dazed guests sit stupidly yearning,
dismayed by their shame,
ready to give absolution,
grant you a reprieve.
They bear no malice
They let bygones be bygones
They bury the hatchet
And turn the other cheek.
But you're not there, - you're never there.
Forgive me if I stare (at the empty chair) .
You say you're an outcast,
cast out, castaway
a rascal, a reprobate, a scoundrel
A black sheep, you claim.
More like a wolf in sheep's clothing,
a Bane to sheep, I say.
They're still there,
gathered around your chair,
pondering their forgiveness,
hoping to proffer it.
Forgive me if I stare.
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