Thursday, September 24, 2009

The Other Son

The prodigal was never the problem, I think. The spite, the bitterness wasn’t because the lost being found warranted celebration. Indeed, I stand with open arms to the one son’s return and might even join the festival were not the father’s attention to the other son so cavalier. You are always with me, and everything I have is yours, sounds like rebuke for having never taken advantage, for waiting in bated hope and expectation for a simple and singular token given from adoration and not coercion. So vogue, now, blaming the father; but, suppose he never gave even reason not to.