feeding the flock
they awaken on sundays
and praise the one who gave them life
they put on their finest clothes
and take to the streets
huddled together like little lambs
moving at the command of their shepherd
who leads them down the narrow way
toward the altar of life
as they march they recite
words from the ancient book
raising their hands
toward the open sky
asking for forgiveness
and vowing to repent
when the hour comes
to prepare the table
they shamelessly offer
the most innocent
as an imperfect sacrifice
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
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