A Poor Man’s Sheep (2 Samuel 12:1-4)

There was a man of little keep,

Whose only treasure was his sheep.

He fed it from his bowl and cup,

Held it close, lifted it up.

🐑🐑🐑

He loved that lamb with all he had,

A love imperfect, aching, sad,

Not always what the sheep would seek,

But every gesture honest, meek.

🐑🐑🐑

He cared for all its fragile needs,

And dreamed of future little bleeds

Of wool and warmth and quiet days,

A flock to bless his humble ways.

🐑🐑🐑

Then I came in with restless pride;

Though I had sheep, I felt denied.

I told myself I understood

What that lamb needed, what was should.

🐑🐑🐑

The man gave love in simple form,

Enough to feed, enough to warm.

But I believed my hands knew more,

And crossed a line I can’t restore.

🐑🐑🐑

I took his sheep for selfish gain,

Not need, not care, just hunger’s claim.

And when I sent that lamb to die,

Something in me died nearby.

🐑🐑🐑

To that poor man I bow in grief.

Your favorite sheep, your one relief.

I pray that God returns your lamb,

And heals the wounds I carved by hand.

🐑🐑🐑

If again your joys increase,

Perhaps my soul may then find peace.

😔😔😔

Authors note: this poem was my response to reading the Bible account of David and Bathsheba after having committed adultery myself and realizing that guilt over such a selfish act is timeless.

Submission to:

https://vocal.media/writers/unofficial-challenge-time-traveler-poetry-for-national-poetry-month