There Was Never A Shepherd

There was never a shepherd,
only the sheep dog.
A little, lost lamb ran away,
and I, a mangy mutt, followed.
She was always flying
far from me, the flock, and the staff.
I left the other ninety-nine
alone in an arid valley.
The wolves came for the herd.
I should have stayed with the horde –
I could have been the alpha –
but I refused to let this one leave.
She trotted innocently into the mire,
where I found her fastened.
She sheepishly retreated from my pursuit.
I had the chance to sink my teeth to bone,
to guide her back home,
but I bit and chewed my own tail,
then trailed her out of the pit.
Despite the mud spotting her fleece,
she was not the least bit spoiled.
I knew I could bring her back to the pack,
with enough time for dinner.
But when we crossed the road,
chariots charged over us,
spilling our guts on the pavement;
leaving us both on a forsaken freeway.
O my god,
what were the merits?

There Was Never A Shepherd

Barrett Stowers

Joined December 2010

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Artist's Description

Parables of Abandonment and the fight for survival.

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