Prodigal Son or Daughter

unhappy thoughtful teen girl arms crossed in rainy day

The people cry out

for the return of the prodigal son or daughter—

as we find our way home, into the arms of people

who love us—who never stopped loving us,

or praying, hoping for the best,

staying open to hosting

what that was.

There should be a place we call home. The foundation of our story redeemed. A place we know we are loved and longed for. Where hugs go a long way to saying all that needs to be said, the rest hardly worth talking about. This need for forgiveness, love and redemption is universal. More on this spiritual good in my latest book “Longings of the Soul, a poetic response,” available on Amazon in paperback or hardcover.

Here’s to more poetry that heals.

Published by Dayna E. Mazzuca

Inspiring Pause, because this moment matters

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