There’s a shadow man
he lives in the shadows
appears; disappears
you don’t know where he is
then suddenly, silently, he’s there
and pulls you in.
You can’t get out
like in a nightmare when you try to wake up
you try really hard
but you can’t.
And no one comes to save you
because they haven’t noticed you’re gone.
No one misses you
you just disappear.
And when they think they see you
it’s not you at all
because you are gone and only a shadow remains.
There once was a sheep farmer with a very large flock. So large he had to use lots of sheepdogs. His sheepdogs were trained to guard his sheep, guide them in for branding and shearing, and protect them and their offspring from predators – especially wolves. The sheep had come to love and trust the farmer, and because of that they accepted the role of the sheepdogs and came to love and trust them also.
Yet, as hard as the farmer and his dogs tried to protect them, every month there was always one or two lambs found with their throats torn out, their mothers bleating noisily at their side, trying to lick away the blood and make their babies whole again.
One spring the farmer had a visitor who wanted to evaluate his farming methods. The visitor’s name was Tom. Tom spent days and nights watching, taking notes, compiling his report. When he was done Tom presented his report to the farmer. Tom had concluded that the lambs were not being killed by wolves at all, they were secretly being killed by sheepdogs. Well, the farmer got angry when he read this and just tore up the report. “That’s nonsense!” said the farmer, “I know my dogs; I trained them well. They wouldn’t hurt a lamb. Never!”
In his report Tom also revealed that the farmer had not only known these facts to be true but also had previously sold to other sheep farmers any sheepdog he found with evidence of bloodshed on his muzzle. And furthermore he had done so without revealing to the new farmer the danger the sheepdog posed.
The farmer sent a letter to Tom’s boss and Tom was fired.
Besides revealing the covert behavior of the sheepdogs, Tom also reported that after each lamb was found slaughtered by the “wolves” the carcass was cut up and the bones were fed to the sheepdogs, whose blood lust was thereby further aroused.
How do I process my grief?
Does suffering have any meaning?
Do we live in a random chaotic universe?
Is it time to re-evaluate my understanding of “God”?
This book is for anyone who has suffered a loss – of safety, of one’s home, of health, of a loved one or a relationship, or of one’s faith … and found themselves asking, “Why?” And then wondering, “Who am I asking?” and hoping they were not alone.
Blond hair
Curly
Blue eyes, wide
In a knitted sweater
Crafted with care
She looks real
Two legs
And panties
She’s soft and warm
Down there
Why did they make her like that
The doll makers
Because They want real skin
The softness, the smell
Mingled with Their spit
They rub and rub
And she just looks
Wide-eyed and still
Clasping the knitted lamb
Crafted with care
They’ll be done soon, little lamb
Then we can sleep
But for now we play the doll game
And remember not to cry
From Hurt to Healing 