Prodigal Returns Home

The stench of my sin heralds my arrival from a distance.
Remnants of my companion swine.
Odor assaults you from the shadows.
Stalks you from the very places where I cursed your name.
Filthy dirt of foreign lands covers and cloaks my hands
Guilt gorges at the great banquet table of my sin.
Never satisfied, it hounds my thoughts and memories
and holds for ransom your great name.
Your gracious gift of sonship, waste it no longer on me.
For I have scorned your paternity.
Inheritance manufactured through blood and thorns and splinter and callous, you gave with joy.
I have trampled your gifts like sand in the street.
My greed driven thirst, unquenchable.
Do not run to meet me on the road
Preserve your righteous energy.
Save your rings and robes and livestock feasts for the sons who were true.
Save your affection for the worthy ones.
Give me only your feet to wash.
Reserved for your purpose is the balance of my life.
Use me in your service until my last breath.
A slave, no longer a son.