The Parable Of The Lost Sheep Poem by Mark Heathcote

Everybody knows the parable of the lost sheep
But I am not lost, nor am I malnourished
Nor am not filthy rich, nor am I poor or dirty
I am not overly good or bad.
I am not the second coming of Jesus Christ
You can nail me to a cedar cross.
I‘ll-not-willingly be sacrificed.

I‘ll not be shepherded, like a new-born lamb
Or led like a lame horse to slaughter-
Hung, drawn and quartered
I‘ll not be drowned like some kitten underwater.
I am not somebody's glove puppet
I am of nearly equal importance!
I can account for my own, ego, pride & gluttony
So hold off, holds off you're—post-mortems

Listen, every man controls
His own, destiny
Jailors too are jailed as are the thieves
… Only they'll never be given any clemency
If all they'll know is this prison time
Then shall Satan continue to make them contribute
Make them pay for their ill-advised crimes.

The parable of the lost sheep
Isn't about, searching to restore oneself to the fold.
... It's about what-isn't-lost
Within ourselves made whole
To break out of these cells, we build internally
All we need is faith & love, unconditional.
To cajole the desert flower open within its bud.