The Child by Andy Dispensa
"Where's my place on life's great shelf?" The child asked.
He was an older child, 2/3rds through life,
and full of torment, grief and strife
because he'd felt he'd flown adrift.
This wasn't just some subtle shift.
The other members of his flock
just grazed and grazed taking no stock.
The rest of sheep all on his farm
kept their heads down and felt no harm.
They knew their job, they knew their place
they pandered easily with grace.
"So glad you asked." The Shepard said.
"Been waiting for you quite sometime,
to step on up and out of line."
"You're not a sheep, an organism,
you'll not be served in someone’s kitchen."
"I knew it" felt the child. "This feeling I've had all of my days is something I cannot put away."
"It's good you feel it…But I'll warn you, if you leave, they'll all forsworn you."
A pit fell in the child's belly.
One of nausea and shaking jelly.
And in that moment then he knew
this was the thing he had to do.
For if he stayed a minute longer
the feeling would grow even stronger.
The Shepard saw the look on his face.
"Before you go
I'll tell you some things you ought to know.
First you have to find the key
to rocking in the third degree
with every single waking eye, the spy of mind and turpentine
that sticks ideas up in your head and drags your feet out of the bed
you'll run for miles in your slips without a solitary trip
no friends or family by your side just universal slip and slides
and different shoots you'll follow down
that lead you in and out of town
and if you choose to act for good
throw way your mask, pull down your hood.
Be seen and grow more then you know
even against the undertow.”
"What if true evil comes to play?"
"You cut it down, or run away"
"Isn't running what cowards do?"
"Not when crazy comes for you."
“Your competition is your ghost, so lap it up and make the most
and when they say you look like that,
it's good, it's bad, it's true, he's mad
from the movie they're projecting out their head
they're right
but the scenes change like seasons
and former states are often forgotten.
Let these terms go off your shoulder
like a great mountain rolling boulders.
The looming path of light or dark determined by your rank or mark
of what you need to feed disease, to ease the load
could lock you in a certain mold.
It's not your time they'll say and say
but even broke clocks have to pay.
The lead has died
without a hollywood buff to shine
and all the grit and brine that's left
will leave you there with your last breath
and it's so hard to say goodbye,
even Irish exit's leave guilt inside
And you'll want to turn around and shroud yourself in unconditional love and warmth and have me standing over you saying "It's ok, she wasn't right for you, that other guy they picked just fit better in their puzzle.
EXCUSES EXCUSES EXCUSES.
So what?
You're out of place, you lost the race, you didn't try, you often lied, embellished truth, against the frame of hard drawn proof.
If you hide you'll be exposed
among the frauds and bitter toads
And if it's all too much to take..
then wait and wait..
and wait. and wait.
And maybe in the next one you'll be granted the gift of canine life
be fed by master, happy pup
3 square meals in alabaster
a life of leisure without risk
and all the history books will be void of your name
but hey, at least you'll be comfortable.
Or maybe your moment in the grand scheme
doesn't come from work or a nice dream
Your moment of radical good will come
in the form of a daughter or a son
and you've been gearing all these years to lead an army from its fears
working jobs to make ends meet, to stuff shoes with naked feet.
Not passion, jobs, a human notion, to keep the squeaky wheel in motion.
Your life will touch another like the magic of a mother to nourish and shape a
ball of clay into a constellation far away.
Survival isn't food and drink,
a place to stay, a running sink.
It's the emotional hunger place
you claw and feed from
then say grace
and when you find the thing that awakes you from your slumber
do not stand in line or take a number,
but work and torment every day
till you then pass and fade away.”
The Shepard stood in silence.
The child was scared and rightfully so,
filled with all the information he didn't know.
He wagged with trepidation at the prospect of his next move..
The Shepard looked at him and propped open the gate.
"You should be scared. You're human.”
“Now go."