Prodigals

We who are down

among the pigs,

who have squandered

our inheritance

to wallow

in the excrement of

our own progress --

 

Prodigal Son,

we salute you!

And should you pass a thought

for your former days,

remember us who did not turn.

© John McNeil. All rights reserved.
This poem may be used free of charge, on the condition that copies are not sold for profit in any medium, nor any entrance fee charged to a performance. In exchange, the author would appreciate being notified of any occasion the poem is used in public performance. He may be contacted at: soul.communication@outlook.com Or at: 36B Stourbridge St, Christchurch 8024, New Zealand.