Prodigal

I am at peace with myself.
I am come home,
that strange and wandering soul
born to my mother,
even so,
in a dark foreign land.

Yes, am come home
and am also the fatted calf
that is no other
than the father safely hid
in myself.

No more the beggar,
successfully lost in himself
who longed for the praise
of others,

I am my brother,
content to be what I am,
no longer jealous
of the stranger
that I have become.

I am come home;
am comfortable in myself,
am become my mother,
who holds arms wide in welcome.

I am come home.