We be sheep,
this phrase echoes inside me
a mysterious chant like thread
through my thoughts
these days.
We be sheep,
at the mercy of shepherds
some who care and suffer
in their search for safe pastures,
green and fertile
where we may safely graze.
We be sheep,
who often are led
by harsh shepherds
who treats us as goats,
leading us to sharp ravine valleys
up to finger hold rocky slopes,
left to the elements
beating us, often drenched
shivering and deserted.
We be sheep
found by the Good Shepherd
He calls to us in our distress,
we will not be lost,
it is ours to endure
sometimes dying and sad
always loved and
carefully cherished.
So this is your new 'plainclothes' format. I enjoyed the poem. It is important to remember that the red lamp will always burn for us, too :)
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