The Unworthy Servant Returns! Poem by Denis Martindale

When the crowd saw him coming near,
They jeered at him, called him good-for-nothing,
Yet he continued in his approach towards them,
Then through them and then past them...

They followed him as if he were their new game,
Taunting him as one they despised,
Played their mind games... yet he walked on,
For he had not returned to please them...

The Master's House showed no remorse,
No portent of love or hate towards this lost soul,
This lonesome wanderer, now devoid of pride,
Here, in his misbegotten rags... a broken man...

They called him The Prodigal, for so he was,
But without the Father's joy, such words were vain,
Suddenly, before entering the Master's house,
He stopped and the crowd laughed out loud...

He gulped back the strain of the ever-present tears,
Gritting his teeth, so as to say nothing,
Yet his silence increased their spite against him,
He lowered his head, overcome with shame...

His face became as red as the blood within,
His tears fell down his cheeks and onto the ground,
Then with the heart breaking, he fell and died
And the crowd were astonished and ashamed...

And the Master heard of it and forgave the man...
Everything he had ever done, all was pardoned,
For had he not repented? Had he not returned?
Had he not served some purpose even in his dying?

And the Master sent out a decree to all wayward souls,
All those with broken hearts who stood alone,
Pleading for each to return home once more,
Before their hearts were broken beyond repair...

And there came a multitude across the years,
All admitting their debt to the man who had died,
For he had softened the heart of the Master,
For what Master would want anyone to suffer so?


Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2014.