Confessions of a Sheep (revised)

Confessions of a Sheep

I crawl through the valley.

The shadows dance

about me like rats.

The thunder sounds

the lightning crashes,

freeing fanged faces into light.

A storm is coming

I've had enough.

I want to go back.

My old field wasn't that bad.

Its grass was poor,

its shade was scarce,

and its waters were brackish,

but at least it wasn't this:

cold shadows, hungry snickers,

furious flashes against

the callous crevice.

The pasture on the other side

can't be worth all of this.

Can it?

I turn to run,

and see Him there,

my Shepherd.

A soft rebuke

from mahogany eyes,

reminds me that

He is there.

"No." His whisper

silences the chaos.

"We're not going back".

He faces the skies

with confident gaze.

He knows this place;

that the darkness is brief

the storm is passing,

and the hungry grins

cannot touch me

while He is here.

He wouldn't have brought me otherwise,

or my brother, and sister, before me,

if where we're going wasn't worth it;

if we weren't going to make it

to the green, lush pastures

Beside the quiet, pure waters.

the shade beneath

the mighty oaks and graceful willows,

before the majestic mountains.

He knows the way,

and He knows I'm afraid.

and now I remember:

that He won't let me fall,

that when I can't go on any longer,

He will carry me Himself,

With strong arms and stout legs.

He has done it before.

How could I have forgotten?

That I am safe with Him?

That His staff is my comfort,

and His rod my joy?

That He is my Shepherd,

and I am in want for nothing?