Yesterday I was reading Henri Nouwen’s the Return Of The Prodigal Son. I wrote this poem as I was enthralled by what he said about the second son. This poem came as I wanted to explore his words in my own way.
The Second Son
Love known as the returning son,
Is like my first love,
Emotional,
Immediate,
It sees my foolishness,
The tears flow easily,
Friendly pats on the back,
The warm embrace,
Celebrations in my honour,
The joy of the return,
Quickly forgetting
My past sins.
I am also the second son,
The one who has stayed,
Feeling pushed aside,
And questions –
What is my Father doing?
Why isn’t he celebrating me,
What about my loyalty?
The hard work done for you?
Did this matter at all?
Everything done for you, for nothing?
My dark night of the soul,
Says to my vulnerable heart,
There are parts of you,
That I don’t love.
The story is completed,
When I became the second son,
Our Father
Is there for this son,
His love seeing what was hidden,
Exposing my ugly darknesses,
The resentment,
The deep loneliness,
Of the one overlooked,
But then the Father,
Shows how he loves the second son,
The invitation to the first son
Is given to me,
Both sons are loved,
We share love’s welcome,
My longings to hear,
What touches my heart,
The words that say,
“I am His Beloved”.