The road home is long
to the prodigal son’s feet,
the heart flies ahead.
The gates are open
always, waiting in welcome,
the heart rejoices.
Why is my brother,
who never strayed from heaven,
sad at my coming?
In the father’s house
there is always abundance
to feed the hungry.
Only the glutted
fear there will not be enough
and close the borders.
Food at the banquet
crumbles to dust and ashes,
a child dies, starving.
©️🥀🐇