This poem speaks about the welcome waiting for us that some of us don’t receive because
we will feel too unworthy
Prodigal’s welcome (Luke 15:11-32)
The party
Is in full swing:
Sounds of celebration
Fill the cool night air
And dancing and feasting
Make the room sparkle.
The prodigal is home.
The Father’s eyes
Are lit by tears
Of joy and relief,
Yet tinged with sadness.
For there in the corner
Sits his son
New robe pristine
But eyes downcast
Forlorn figure still.
And, hand held out,
The Father bids him come,
Unworthy as he feels.
The dance is waiting.
By Jeannie Kendall
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