Poetry Saturday—Mountain Sheep

Step by step we make the climb
A rhythm beat from foot on gravel
Lost in thought and void of time
As we track this tower of babel

Hard dead earth, scorched by sun
More confused near the top
Both hot and cold are found in one
Both grasp for life like the withered crops

These people, poor people, hid up in the mountain
Seeking always to find life’s summit
But poisoned by deceit’s sweet fountain
And so, into darkness they continue to plummet

Why is the truth to these people unspoken
Who comes to shepherd these mountain sheep
Where is the news that the grave was broken
The harvest is plenty, but who comes to reap —Luke Brogden

(This was written by my nephew after visiting Nepal and meeting people who hadn’t yet heard about Jesus.)

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