Stunted bush
beside the unpaved road
the shepherd often passes here
with his hundred sheep
their hooves churning the soft sand
the lambs bouncing as they follow along.
We walked under the palms
to see the shepherd lead
his traveling company
but they had gone by earlier
the dust had settled.
Under the stunted bush
a cool hollow in the sand
in it a lamb too lame to follow
a lamb with its feet wired together
lifted its little face.
Did the shepherd plan to return
to that humble patience
that quiet trust?
Come that evening with a knife
his fire several fields away
already building heat
the grill glowing?
The good shepherds of myth
psalm and parable
have always made me uneasy
something wrong there
leading me however gently
to the slaughter.