Prodigal Son
You were a good worker, carrying your load
but I’m not as fragile as you think I am
Just think of your mother when you hit the road
Sometimes yr the blossom & sometimes yr the stem
The farm is quiet, and I see the allure
Of a high-rise, a pay raise, and the folks that offer them
Winter by winter, our occupants are fewer
Sometimes yr the blossom & sometimes yr the stem
Prodigal son, when I see you in the spring
You’ll say you’ve never gotten the letters that I send
Prodigal son, I’ll have forgiven everything
I know my love will find you in the end
If departure is how you need to live,
This is a farewell but it’s not a requiem
My favorite death scenes are figurative
Sometimes yr the blossom & sometimes yr the stem
Prodigal son, when I see you in the spring
You will know a highway in the west to recommend
Prodigal son, I’ll have forgiven everything
I know my love will find you in the end
I know what your labor will yield:
The workers of the field will someday be the field
I don’t think that you’re terrible
this parable wasn’t written to condemn
Now the father is the stem and the child is the stem…
Like a buried bulb in the garden,
I’ll see you resurrected on a forty-acre plot
Don’t waste your breath now, begging for my pardon:
Every second you are here repays a decade you were not.