Why Are The Shepherds Silent? Poem by Melody Thaila Kuku

Rushing blindly into the ditch,
Driven by pleasure the slave Master,
Broken limbs, damaged emotions.
No warning was given,
They are led on by
Their watchers greed,
They who strip their pockets of coins,
And splash incantations of blessings
On the flock,
Who look on with heart so pure,
Or not so pure.

Shepherds, fat shepherds,
Leading fat and lean flock alike,
Along broad ways of destruction.
Soothing words are
Spoken to wayward sheep,
For their wool are too valued
To be thrown away by harsh truth.
Gentle staff, rubbed in oil of guile,
Preferred to be held,
Then prickly staff of blunt truth.

Wools and meat,
Placed above souls
Of misguided sheep.
Where are the voices
That once challenged ancient kings?
Where is the sound of rough rebuke?
That saved sheep from wandering to
Wolves pub?

The kings are failing,
The sheep are dying,
The world smells,
The pastures are sour,
Why are the shepherds silent?

Tis because they are but hirelings,
No place in the heart
For the flock they lead.
Organisations for sheep protection,
They form,
As lies sit on their tongue,
And any shepherd who wield
The staff of truth,
Is pushed into a pit of falsehood,
His garment, stained.