Shepherd Poem by Krantol Northic

I am
the one who sits, counts, watches.

I am
the one that sits against the
hazel brown tree
under the shade of the youthful leaves
as They graze on the field

I am
the one
that walks in front of Them
leading Them to the flow
of cascading, sparkling diamonds
each one with its own small rainbow

I am
the one who, for all intents and purposes
looks sound asleep
but on the first broken twig
draws his staff in its direction

I am
the one
who sees the beast of black and claw
but does not back down
for fear of harm
to the ones behind me

I am
the one who merely points and swings his staff
with mere hopes of scaring

I am
the one who takes that leap of faith

I am
the one who is seconds away from open jaws
and unsheathed claws

I am not
the one who made
this stick of oak
into a golden, glittering hilt
attached to a long silver blade

I am not
the one who
somehow
persuaded my arm to move against its will
to deal an unnatural wound

I am not
the one who's actions were
smooth
quick

I am not
the one who dealt 3 quick strokes
that were enough

I am
the one
who woke up minutes later
staff in hand
no one around
bear on the ground

I am
the one who lead my sheep
back to their pen

I am
the one indebted

I am not
the one who found a way out

and it seems

I am not
the only shepherd out today