Prone to wander
Via wilderness;
We are
Little lost lambs,
Fluffy-headed in and out
And reeking of our own waste.
There is no time for sheep to sit still,
When the grass is greener on the other hill.
So we trot and stumble
Away from You.

Prone to wander,
Via nurture and nature;
We are
Shedding, shoddy sheep.
Nestled in the nooks and crannies
Of the rocks,
Needless and numb and
Heedless and dumb.
Shivering in the silver slivers
Of the mountains of our making,
Far from home and far
Away from You.

The Shepherd had 99 who were perfectly fine,
Yet took the time to seek us,
To become dust.
He hooked us round the necks and dragged us bleating back
To pleasant pasture and stream.

Prone to wonder,
Via dolorosa;
We are
Fuzzy found flocks
Of infinite worth,
From infinite birth.
Time to search, to give up? It stood still at the death of the Son.
We live and breathe and have our baaing
By your seeking and losing in one.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to seek, and a time to lose…”
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6a

(Liturgical poetry during Lent is inspired by the Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. Photo by Linnea Wheeler.)

Words for the Church: Lent
1. the death of fire
2. tiny tilting towers
3. touch
5. kept
6. enrich the earth