Friday, 29 September 2017

The Lost Son

                     THE LOST SON
It was such a joyful day when Yaron came home. He looked half dead, but that was good as I had feared he was dead. A joyful day, a great feast; but it ended in sadness that has become like a twisting knife.
                      Saddiq was such a good boy. But when Yaron came back, he changed: first he was cold and distant to his brother, then to me for welcoming him back. Now he doesn't even  speak to his mother, poor Anna she weeps herself to sleep most nights. But Saddiq is in the synagogue as always as if nothing is wrong and this year he has been to the temple in Jerusalem three times, once right in the middle of harvest. Yaron did the work of three men then. Oh my Saddiq, does he think he can talk to God even though he will not speak to us?
                 I always knew that Yaron would be back. Now he is so grateful for everything, but it is not easy for him: while he was away he fell in love with a beautiful Phoenician woman. He found out that she was a prostitute, it broke his heart. Sometimes at night I hear him praying  for Father God to take away his love for her, he misses her badly.
                        Yes I always knew he would come back, but I am not so sure about Saddiq. He is in a dark and bitter place, further away than Yaron ever was, I have never seen this, is there a way back from such a place? If there is a God in heaven there has to be. But will my Saddiq come that way?
                       I hope, I pray, but I do not know.
                          Wilf Sep 2017