Just Locks And Chains Poem by Daniel Brick

When the Prodigal Son returned home
for the second time, his father, all joy
and forgiveness, announced a party at once.
And at once set to work. Even the most distant
relative was summoned, and people nearby,
even strangers just passing through this
vicinity of joy, were invited. All of them
crowded around the boy, jostling for the best
place, breathing the available air, leaving him
gasping, unable to answer their blandishments.
He broke free, when his father was occupied,
and found an open spot on the second level.
He was drinking too much wine, gulping down
glass after glass, as the servants dutifully
responded. Below, he saw his father in the midst
of a pack of servants, some carrying wine flasks,
others trays of food. His father was giving them
expert directions, pointing here and there,
even waving up to his eldest son. The boy
was shocked, How could he possibly find me?
Then he saw his three younger brothers warily
staring up at him, making no effort to turn
their sneers into smiles. Abruptly, they vanished
into the huge banquet hall...

Around midnight, sated with wine and people,
the honored guest slipped away, avoiding
eye-contact, and walked down an immense hallway
which connected this southern wing of his father's
sprawling mansion with its two northern wings.
"All this will be yours, my dear son, " he smiled
over his eldest son the day before his first escape
attempt. He sheepishly returned on his own, mumbling
excuses and lies. His second attempt was equally
futile as agents of his father surprised him
at the fortified border center and kept watch
over him, until the strings that bound him
to his family, stretched taut, suddenly snapped
him back... Now he was walking drunkenly
down the connecting corridor, confused and angry.
He reached an immense stone chair. He climbed
awkwardly to the seat, and sprawled in its excess
space. The stone chair was a relic of a lost age
when men were still giants roaming the earth.
Legendary warriors, they wore no armor, they carried
no weapons. They wrestled their way to dominion
but no one stayed on top for long. There were always
new wrestling matches, with challengers gloating,
there were new conquests to achieve, new widows
to pursue...

He awoke suddenly, after several hours of drunken
sleep. His dream had dispelled his stupor: it displayed
a wide road unfolding for miles of forest and prairie.
He bolted from the giants' chair, and ran, stumbling,
breathing heavily, down the hollow corridor, echoes
of his haste bombarding the walls. His father,
his younger brothers, the guests would all be sunk
in deep sleep, having been guided to their chambers
by sober servants. It was easy to get some of them
to prepare a horse and supplies for him. Once mounted,
he followed the upward curving slope of the road
to an elevation, where he paused but did not dismount.
Looking down on his father's opulent mansion,
he was puzzled. This has never been my home, he thought.
Let my brothers wrestle for it! My place is elsewhere.
"Good-bye, dear father, " he spoke softly into the still
morning air. "You tried to give me everything, but it was
all just chains and locks! All I want, all I need is
to breathe ample air freely." At his signal, the horse
began to gallop down the road, which widened with every mile.