It Takes One To Know One

The church has been doing a series about the Prodigal Son. Except that it is not really about the Prodigal Son, but about his brother, and in particular, exposing what a rat he really was. Since I have never read the story that way, and since I seldom like having my firmly set, preconceived ideas challenged in any way, I have been feeling more and more cranky about the older son bashing. Probably because I am the older son, I am faithful and diligent and always do the right thing and I think that a little righteous anger is A-Ok if someone deserves it. Yes, I do see the irony and the lesson, and all the etceteras. Thanks for asking.
Anyway, K found this poem and it seemed to fit my wicked sense of justice humor. Laters.
The Prodigal Son’s Brother- Steve Kowit
who’d been steadfast as small change all his life
forgave the one who bounced back like a bad check
the moment his father told him he ought to.
After all, that’s what being good means.
In fact, it was he who hosted the party,
bought the crepes & champagne,
uncorked every bottle. With each drink
another toast to his brother: ex-swindler, hit-man
& rapist. By the end of the night
the entire village was blithering drunk
in an orgy of hugs & forgiveness,
while he himself,
whose one wish was to be loved as profusely,
slipped in & out of their houses,
stuffing into a satchel their brooches & rings
& bracelets & candelabra.
Then lit out at dawn with a light heart
for a port city he knew only by reputation:
ladies in lipstick hanging out of each window,
& every third door a saloon.
Steve Kowit