The Prodigal Poem by Josephine Collett

I left with plans
of journeys into life,
impressive sights, exhilarating sounds
the coursing pulse of friendship, dancing, wine
alluring girls.
I left light-heartedly, my steps
were strong, my pockets jangling.
A fine new cloak
swung loosely round my shoulders'
I left not looking back
to see him

Watching me, my father
watching me

And now I see myself
left cold, alone,
the swineherd man
in rags, my coins
and friends departed simultaneously.
Not so handsome, self-assured
and honoured now.
A tattered cloak my covering
against a filthy ditch.

I would not have him
watching me, my father,
watching me

The journey home
has wrested every step on blistered feet.
A mouth that uttered promises
is parched with thirst,
a heart that leapt with joy
now seared with pain.
My sorrow burns within me
and I see him

watching me, my father
watching me

Now he knows me
He is running
Oh that I could bury
all this bitter shame within his arms
He holds me tenderly and tells me
Of his love, of all my shame
Now covered with his love.

I live again for him
to know him
watching me, my Father, always
watching over me.