Old New Mexico’s Prodigal Son

A poem by Greg See
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Los Tres Amigos Ranch on the meadows of Las Vegas prospered with Miguel and his first son Jose, but Young Pablo didn’t like the work or the pay.

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“This ranch is doing fine,” said he to his Padre, “It’s Spring and the cattle are fat on our agenda. Now give me what’s mine and ‘adios the hacienda.’”

Old Miguel scratched his chin, then nodded his head, and divided all he had between each of his boys. 

Jose went to work, Pablo to his toys.

Saddled with dineros on his perfect thoroughbred, the boy rode to Clayton for women, wine and song, ‘til his horse was sold and his silver saddle gone.

Desert winds dried up both his credit and his lovers.

 Hungry for so long, Pablo didn’t have a peso, and he

Couldn’t remember tasting chile con queso! 

There was nothing for it now but to make himself a slave.

This Don’s proud son kept a farmer’s pig, 

and for the pods it ate would have danced a jig.

 At the

end of himself young Pablo was done. “I’ll Return to mi Dios and my Papi”, said he, “I’ll be his Peon if forgiveness is given to me.”

Walking back from Clayton took longer than a horse. But Pablo stumbled over Los Tres Amigos hill to see his Father running for him open arms to fill. 

 “I’m sin-sick Dad, and not fit-“ but wait! A Kiss- new gear, they dance and sing and on his Finger, Great-Grandfather’s crested ring!

When Jose saw his brother glom the fatted calf, cold

 steel filled his heart with bitter complaint. “I am

Faithful, mi Padre- he’s shown no restraint!”

“Mijo,” said the Don, “your brother was dead. The Lost is found , what can we do but rejoice? But Los Tres Amigos Ranch for you is my choice.”

“What a Story of love and forgiveness is this! Mercy and grace for the Prodigal One, who knows well the gift …for I am that Son.”

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