The Prodigal by Fadrian Bartley

A large tree in the middle of green woodland. Large white text reads: The Prodigal. Smaller text reads: Discussing disabled characters in fairy tales and folklore.

​I left the city and went back home to the countryside
carrying a suitcase packed with the silence,
the journey of time could be identified upon its wrinkles
and the foundation remain with regrets and balcony splits,
after I wiped the journey from off my heels, I stood and looked
at the future through the grey mist of caducity, fat and overweight
as it eats nothing else except arthritis.
then cold shoulders administered themselves to my welcome
at a cold place beneath the roof,
where nonverbal cues are louder than my voice
and cigar puffs the air to sedate all that lies within,
but wounded words which fell from toxic breath
is stronger than barking dogs,
and the fragile window glasses fail to withstand against the martyred words,
which exposed to a neighborhood of vile tongues louder than my dislikeness,
as the twilight frowned upon the post meridian the sea rest upon my lashes
only to be hushed by curtains and doors,
the crewing dawn open its eyes with wine brawlers of passerby
spitting reality in drunken tales that become a stir of echoes for barking dogs.
Through shifted curtains intoxication identify itself
with tilted bones that rocks with the wind, while expose nerve open to dispute.
Into the west of a hard knock life, a place that reveal how weevil dances in dry cornmeal,
Proves how stronger I am than a giant, because I carry the thunder inside my belly.
and if I complain those around me replied and said, God didn’t make the world
with oil only salt, this is the bitter wind at my ears when I still complained and the world
replied and said, God didn’t make the world with oil and dead meat, only salt proverbs and poetry.

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About the author: 
Fadrian Bartley is a creative writer from Kingston Jamaican, his poetry is available in journals and online web magazines such as mixedmag.com. Pif-Magazine. The-horrzinemagazine.com Bloodmoonrising.com, and Festivalforpoetry.com. Fadrian is currently pursuing his degree as a freelance writer, his inspiration comes from within and continuously opening new pages to begin a new chapter.