Found sheep
We often find ourselves in places
we hadn’t meant to go.
Like sheep we go with the flow —
nearsighted, we follow the grass with our nose
’til we’re too close to the cliff’s edges.
Or like a four-year-old: he’s lost and dwarfed
by Wal-mart’s maze of shelves that tower,
glowering down with merciless horrors,
he searches for his mother’s face,
thinking now she must be lost forever.
Or the single mom who’s weary
with the kids on Friday nights,
and lets the tube ‘enrich’ them again,
her voice, forcing cheer and worried
the light will slowly dim in their eyes.
Or even the teen who’s just turned
her tassel and walked off the stage,
and throws her cap in the air,
but then comes home to find it hard
to fill the hours in a day.
I suppose I’d rather strip myself
of such sheeply ways and clothes,
I so easily go astray.
But dreaming myself a steed, or wishing
my leopard’s spots away, won’t make it so.
So then if we must be sheep (for now),
we’d best keep close to the Keeper of sheep,
yet He’s never very far away anyway.
I often lose sight of Him,
but He never has lost me.
— David Herin