Poetry

Prodigal Son

by Stephen Wong
02/23/21
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Like a young rascal who has been caught again red-handed,

He wanders into the study, a slumped figure,

A foreigner carefully treading past bookshelves blanketed in dust,

A lone unopened Bible,

At home on the cold hard floor,

Huddling up against the ancient piles of magazines,

His eyes lock onto the coffee stains on the rugged carpet,

He can’t bear to look up,

Yet he can feel it,

Dad’s piercing gaze,

This time there’s no excuses, no lies, no pretending,

Dad sees all, Dad knows all,

Helpless, he falls on his knees in front of the desk,

A beggar at the table of the king,

Only in humility will he receive help,

Only in honesty will he find healing,

Only in trust will he find peace,

Dear Dad,

I’ve spent so long wandering away,

Now I’ve wandered back into your arms….