Wounds from a friend can be trusted
Wounds from an
enemy, too
because they
wouldn’t be there
unless you had
let them through
And if you are
the one agreeing then
they must be
what’s required.
You are a Good
Shepherd,
not the one
that’s hired
You are a Good
Shepherd
The one for
which and I was sired.
What meager
habitations God requires
What diminutive
spots he lands in
How else could
he have managed
how else could
he have hung around
the whole
universe from and for him expounded?
Why are we
never quiet?
Why can’t we
sit and rest?
Why won’t we
let him inhabit
Every pore
within our breast?
Now that’s a
universe itself.
Yes?
