The hired hand, who is not the shepherd
and does not own the sheep,
sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—
and the wolf snatches them and scatters them.
—John 10.12
I don’t see it coming.
It lurks, beyond awareness,
moves through the underbrush
on tough, forest-wise paws,
smells what I can’t, knowing,
an ancient species.
It scatters and snatches
my innocent goodness.
Fear chasing down love.
Let me gaze at you, wolf.
Know you, name you,
learn your ways.
Who is it, then,
who stands between me and my wolf?
Who alone can tame the wild,
not stone this one (there will be more),
but make my wolf lie down with the lamb?
Let me learn the voice of my shepherd.
Let me listen and follow,
and even through the shadowed valley
stay close.
—April 18, 2018