False Shepherds & Lost Sheep

On the Lord’s day

In my mind’s eye

I watched the Wolf walk among weak sheep disguised

Pride cunningly crouched within his eyes

The blood of Abel staining its teeth

Sheepskin hiding deceit

Schemes devised

Childlike innocence meeting demise

The carcass of desire is rotting and swarmed with flies

My poetry cries for souls and buried dreams

Deemed uncleaned destined never to rise

In spiritual prison yards

Behind religious bars

Institutionalized

Reverse metamorphosis

A lifeless Bride

A broken Body

A lukewarm Corpse

The chosen child chooses to be an orphan

Bearing the Father’s image

Yet choosing tradition’s portrait

I see the Spirit mourning

While

False shepherds rejoice and smile

With bits of wool stuck in their teeth

I hear helpless herds sheepishly bleat

I cry

I grieve

I weep

Some are awake but many have fallen asleep

Can no one hear the Good Shepherd crying out for His lost sheep?

The Lamb slain before the world will be the judge of you and me