Prodigal Chant Poem by Ayandare Mayowa

Scorching sun chides my bare back
Overheated sand sifts through my sandals to my bruised feet
Head heavy, My limbs weak
Life drains off my once innocent soul
Oh Lord please
I am coming back home

Being around the world
Beheld exquisite hotels and towers
Met with world leaders and powers

Driven them all
Fairly old, old and modern cars
Big and small, slick, rugged, slow and fast cars

Dated them all
Black, brown and white girls
Straight and curly hair, shy, loud. blondes and red heads
The geek and fashionable

From my vine comes
Some of the grapes and choice fruits that becomes your wine
My taste buds lavished, highly pampered
Never deny my soul and body whatever my eye chooses for it
Mansions, cruise boats, quality safes, I own them all
But still not whole
Within me is a huge hole
Oh Lord Please
I am coming back home

The substance and Gold now gradually fades
But not anymore do I care
Only this paper now is dear
Yes. an ordinary paper
Made invaluable by the wide grin of my young son
Held in hand by a fair maiden, my wife
In their eyes
I see innocence, love, hope and assurance of a better day
Only I never saw it
Ambitions, I left them and all to pursue extra something
I got it but without them it was nothing
Witnessed only my Sons first cry
Not his first smile, Not his first laugh
Did not see him take his first step
Grow his first tooth
Not his first beard
Today, his years become nineteen
Seeing me now
Can their countenance ever be sweetened
Oh Lord please
I am coming back home