I've worked the fields for as long as I can remember,
fulfilled by the labor and the place at my father's table and in his heart.
My brother deserts, impatient inheritance in hand,
with eyes never to return. I return to the fields,
twice the work but not twice the appreciation.
I guess obedience is a lonely occupation.
When he returns to grovel, disinherited and in debt,
my father lifts him up and throws the lavish party
I never once was offered for my years of faithful work.
I guess there's no party for never straying.
Am I invisible for staying? The father tries to comfort me,
"You have always been with me, and all I have is yours,"
Truly, I've never gone hungry, never doubted his love
but I guess I'm just saying—
obedience is a lonely occupation
and there's no party for never straying.
—Ellen H.
(In my "Monologues" series. A perspective on the biblical Prodigal Son allegory, Luke 15:11-32)
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