Semi-Lost Sheep

I drink rainwater with my coffee,

catching a molecule by surprise.

The sky stretches like a telephone wire,

each cloud a twist in the cord of 

a purple-pink sunrise.

My right heel clicks on the damp pavement,

earbuds wedged tightly in pinking 

ears, feeling ant-like in size.

Metal doors glance against my fingernails,

pace faltering to help someone enter too,

and our eyes lock on the knowledge

that we’re all loved unconditionally; 

every morning, dusk, day, afternoon 

and midnight dredge

into our beds where we pray for a few minutes,

thank God for menial things, hoping we’ll try

harder tomorrow, stay away from the ledge

of which we’re too fond of teetering on;

that balance between good enough and perfect—

measuring up consumes the whole day.

We’re not all lost sheep, some of us

stay at the back of the flock, watching our

Shepherd herd each stray

back to the throng of believers, where it is

sometimes hard to breathe without first

inhaling what they all say.

We know we are beloved, we dip our

pointer fingers in holy water stoups,

believing fervently as we ought.

We have those tiny miracles too, and

pray in the middle of class unnoticed,

receivers of a love that can be taught.

We read our Bibles and clutch our 

rosaries each night, crying out when we 

feel like slipping through a slot.

We persist, imperfect,

but we still try every morning

to love God better than yesterday.

It’s not easy, but nothing fulfilling 

ever is, so our prayers ripple in a line

to a Father that will always say:

I love you, and you are mine.

We weren’t chosen because

we were perfect, we were chosen 

to follow a God with a perfect plan.

We might not be the lost sheep,

but we are never unnoticed in the 

throng of believers, each our fellow man.

Jostled at times, but never pushed, 

we recognize our equality

and together we all stand.

Confessing our faith,

palms up and eyes lowered,

humming psalms turned to song.

For when we close our eyes we see

everything fading away to reveal

Our Father stretching his hand out,

guiding us gently along.