Postmodern Prodigals Pt. II

I wrote the following for every child of divorce regardless of whether it was your dad or mom who left. This poem is about no one in particular; I hope it captures the feelings of many children, regardless of age, who have grown up without the presence of one of their parents. No matter what age you are when your parent decides to leave, it affects you. You will carry scars. The immediate care you seek might lessen them, however. Let's not forget to help carry each other's burdens, or better yet, help each other rid ourselves of these painful loads through acceptance, forgiveness, and grace.

The Postmodern Prodigal

He just had to get out,
Couldn’t take it anymore;
He was finally gonna see
What this big world had in store.

Life so far had thrown him
Nothing but curves—
He was set to be out from under
& Get what he deserved.

Responsibility and restrictions,
Curfews no more—
Time to sow a few oats;
Life so far: a bore.

Taking only what was his
He walked out the door.
He never looked back—
Never thought all he had left was “more.”

Now years later,
His ‘more’ meant much less.
Could he ever go back?
Face to face, he must confess:

That he’d run away from life’s best;
He’d bought an empty dream.
Sometimes the grass
Isn’t as green as it seems.

“Would they have me back?”
He wondered aloud.
“My family I’ve abandoned and
I’ve been chasing a cloud.”

“I gave it all up:
Love, family, and grace;
I don’t deserve to have
My kids see my guilty face.”

“Please Lord, help me if you can
Make a way for me—
I’ve blown it:
I am the Prodigal Dad.”