watching moment

there was a caressing of my heart
a soft touching of my cheek
he was gentle in his asking
will you watch with me
and we sat together at the edge of the night
watching through the dawn’s laboring
in its birthing of day
and he showed me the things of his heart
all the pastures
some green and some not
some healthy
and some filled with hidden thorns
some with hard ugly walls of pride
some with high fences of legalism
some with gates of ownership
some with monuments of self
and the shepherds
some asleep
some wounded and bleeding
some blinded
some crippled
some chained
some with their legs caught in toothy traps
and the sheep
wandering
looking lost
hurt
dying
some covered in the scars of being too closely shorn
some fighting
many just lying around their eyes glazed with apathy
and the lambs
confused
dangerously close to cliff edges
entangled in thorn bushes
and to each one
he bent low and spoke
sometimes a word of warning
sometimes a word of correction
sometimes a word of guidance, of direction
sometimes a word of praise
but each word spoken in deep deep love
and as he spoke
some shepherds and some sheep lifted their heads to hear
and some did not, there was no recognition of his voice
some nights we dance
some nights we sing
but this was a night of sorrow
of sadness
in the visiting of what is of what was to have been
and yet
it was all seen through eyes of such love
and there were the shepherds surrounded by the biting teeth of the sheep
and the shepherds in the midst of the sheep but not seen by the sheep
and sheep seen but not wanted nor accepted by their shepherds
although I could feel his burning anger at the things hidden in the shadows
his deep sadness at the heartrending bleating of the sheep
his eyes were soft in their knowing