POETRY: ‘Escape from A Prodigal Inheritance’

Contributed by: David Moya, art major

 

In memory of Uncle Ruben

They were once young men without an ounce of grey.

Men with a Shepard, yet some had gone astray.

Life crept in and as hands were harden by work,

Absent from the thought that their death did lurk.

 

Some do squander everything they possess,

Walking through life with less and less.

The other do labor with no result in the end,

But throughout their life faith in God they defend.

 

Now here they both are falling deep into love,

Blessed with their own sons and daughters, gifts from above.

 

But life crept in much quicker than they thought,

Growing strands of wisdom like a field to plot.

The man of folly did have much regret,

Nothing stored for his children, not a single profit.

Yet he was shown much mercy in the shape of a cross,

To eternity from a life of withered dried moss.

 

Harden by work and driven by passion,

Death did lurk in the same old fashion.

The worker of righteousness had a different remorse,

Not giving enough as he had ran his course.

Still grace found him and his life had a seal,

By the God man’s work and his redeeming appeal.

 

Both men now lie at the inescapable truth,

That death finds all and this needs no proof.

Assisted breathing, no sight, and a muffled soft sound,

The children of these men stand and gather around.

 

Both men speak up and as a song they lull.

“What good is it for a man to gain the world and forfeit his soul?”

“We once were young men with not an ounce of grey,

Men with a Shepard forever shall we stay.

Death did lurk and our fate it did wrought.

Our lives not taken, but at a price they were bought.”

 

The children stand there, young, and full of hue.

Asking for the Shepard their Father’s once knew.