The Smell of the Sheep

There are those who seldom go out of themselves

Who feel they miss out on the best of everything,

And their spiritual discontent

Will stir the dark depths of their hearts

And they grow restless,

They lose heart and they draw deeper into suffering.

And soon they need the smell of the sheep,

Their unpleasant smell,

The smell of rectums and vaginas,

The smell of disease, and of fodder.

They need to be familiar with it,

And then they will act.

They see their fantasy selves in Baroque Art,

For there they are beautiful and special,

Shepherds whose smiles are benevolent,

Their destiny is to struggle with the truth.

A visit to schools, and to hospitals

Should stir them into action,

For there is much to smell there,

Young sheep, vulnerable sheep,

So hungry, so thirsty,

So in need of hands being laid upon.

They are easily led, these sheep,

By these spiritual men of voice and staff,

For vulnerability knows these voices

And they recognize the staffs.

These sheep are insistently told they are lost

They are like sheep without a shepherd,

Someone to wholly depend upon.

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