The 99

99 sheep carried on peacefully in the field 
    doing all the things that sheep 
        in green pastures 
        by still waters 
            do


They grazed lazily on the fresh, green grass.
They napped casually in the warmth of the sun.
They meandered without purpose as the day wore on.


They weren’t hungry 
    or thirsty 
    or frightened 
    or alone 
        because they were cared for 
        by a watchful shepherd 
        and each had 98 other sheep to grant companionship. 


They forgot or just didn’t care . . .
    . . . they were meant to have 99 other sheep each. 
100 sheep 
    were meant to be well fed 
    and watered 
    and protected 
    and together with one another. 


But 99 
    satiated
    content
    old sheep 
        went on with their peaceful, sheepy lives. . .
. . .as 1 young sheep wandered 
    Far from the flock
        Into the wild, dangerous unknown.


They didn’t even notice. . . 
    . . . if he’d been lured away
    . . . if he’d been driven away by another sheep
    . . . if something had scared him and he’d run haphazardly
    . . . if he’d felt alone and unseen by the other sheep
    . . . if he just didn’t fit in


So content 
    and fat 
    and happy 
were the 99, 


So wrapped up 
    in their own little lives 
    full of minor inconveniences — 
        like having to move to a new patch of grass 
        or scramble over a rock to reach the stream — 
    they didn’t notice 
        or care 
    when the yearling wandered away.  


99 fat and happy sheep 
    stayed 
        put.


When the shepherd left — 
    THAT they noticed. 
    THAT they cared about.
They knew why he left. 
He only ever left to find a lost sheep


    Good for the shepherd! 
    Someone should go bring that lamb back 
        and tell him what he’s done wrong!


And the sheep each began to reminisce 
    about a time long ago 
    when they too had each been lost. 


    I remember when I was lost 
        and the shepherd came to find me.
        I was over there on the edge of the field
            by those trees
            nearly out in the wild!


    That was nothing compared to the time 
        I was lost 
            all the way past that tree
                the one you see over there
        and the shepherd came to find ME!
    
    Thank God 
        I 
    am now back 
    and safe with the flock


They felt it was good and right
    after their own personal ordeals
    that they were 
        fat and happy.
        content and fed
        protected at night by the wall 
            that kept the enemies in the world out. 
            that kept them separated 
                from the other sheep from other flocks. 
                    Or, God forbid. . . 
                        The wild, flock-less sheep 
                        that ran wild in the hills. 


    Heathen, lawless feral sheep.


When they thought about it, though
    It wasn’t a good optic
    Having only 99 sheep in a flock
    
    Everyone knows that 100 sheep
        THAT is a good, healthy flock
    
    The shepherd really ought to do
        EVERYTHING
        in his power 
        to bring back that wayward lamb.
    
    It is the shepherd’s job 
        to find the lost
        to bring them back
        to talk them into coming home
    
    It certainly is
        the SHEPHERD’S FAULT
        we’re missing a sheep
    
    The shepherd should have been
        more watchful
        more engaged with the lambs
        more knowledgeable about all the dangers
            and all the reasons a lamb might leave
            and all the right ways
                to lure a lamb home.


As the afternoon wore on into evening
    the lazy sheep kept gossiping
        about how the shepherd should go about finding the lamb
        and the possibilities that the shepherd would
            find even more lost sheep
            sheep from other flocks
            or tame wild sheep from the hills
            to make their flock even larger
    
    Wouldn’t that be great?
        A larger flock than even before!
    
    What if something happens to the shepherd, though?
        How would we find a new shepherd?
        Good shepherds are hard to find.
        And we’ll never find another just like this one
        No good shepherd would want a flock of only 99
            selfish
            greedy shepherds
        We are good sheep
            the best sheep
            but now we’re only 99
    
What if the shepherd doesn’t find the lamb?
What would it look like 
                if we remained only 99. . . 
                    . . . forever
                or worse
                    . . . dwindled further
                        to 98
                        or 95


When their gossip 
    and hollow daydreaming
    and panicked worry
        was interrupted
    by the bleats of the lost lamb
    carried on the shoulders of the weary shepherd
Their gossip turned
    to self-congratulations


    What a fine job our shepherd has done
        of finding this lost one
        of bringing him home
    
    We are a fine and loving flock
        because we have a fine and loving shepherd
        because when the shepherd went to find
            1 lost of 100
                we stayed in the walls of the fold
                we did not risk becoming lost
                    or eaten
                    or wooed by feral sheep from the wild hills
    
    It is about time,
        young and wayward yearling,
    that you listen to the call of the shepherd
    that you return to this fine and loving flock
        the flock that sat
            quietly
            patiently
        while you explored the dangerous world


And as the sun began to set
    the sheep filtered back into the protective walls of the fold
    and the shepherd prepared to close the gate
        and tend his wounds — 
            scratches from briars
            and bruises from stumbling on rocky paths
            and bites from the coyote he’d had to chase away from the wayward lamb
        and rest 
            for he’d hiked so many miles
            and fought off a coyote
            and carried the lost and frightened lamb
                all the way home.
    and the sheep prepared to sleep
        soundly
        exhausted
            sleeping off the harrowing day they’d had
                a day full of moving to fresh patches of grass
                climbing over rocks to get to the stream
                and of course. . . 
                . . . the exhaustion of worry
                    and nostalgia