Monday 8th March

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