Sunday moment

after a bit of a hiatus
there was once again
a gathering around the table

while lovely to have the house full
the table groaning under the weight of food
the front hall filled with dripping boots
the air saturated with the sounds of many voices

I was saddened
that in our midst
was a bleeding shepherd
recently bitten by his sheep

and I again wonder
about the big teeth of the sheep
why these teeth are so eager
to sink into the skin
of one called to lead them

I have been told
a shepherd
when he rests
lies across the opening into the pasture
to protect the sheep within
from those
dressed in sheep's clothing
who would enter
from without

the shepherd at my table yesterday
while protecting his sheep
was bitten
not from without
but from within the pasture

and so we ate
we cried
we laughed
we touched

fingers caressed guitar strings
and we worshiped

and we were quiet in the Presence of the King

and we ate some more
laughed some more
cried some more

and after midnight
when the last went home
I thought of the different shepherds
who have sat 'round my table
with fresh wounds
from the big teeth
of biting sheep

and I was sad
because I am a sheep
and the ability to bite
is in me too

but for a season
this tender bleeding shepherd
will be sheltered
in the tent of our friendship
and when the wounds have healed
I wonder
if he will ever enter another pasture
for this is not the first time
his blood has flowed
because of the big teeth
of the sheep of his pasture