All the Good Shepherds

I've had dreams
about heaven, Jesus and Mary
and all the good shepherds
in institutional white and in formation-
I dreamt they were coming
toward me from a landing strip
walking through plate glass.

Once, when wide awake,
I warned Satan off
by making the sign of the cross
in spite of my arms being pinned
to the bed.

Now, these shadows,
hands clasped behind their backs,
heads lowered-
they pass by my windows
in daylight, in moonlight.
I have seen them
come out from behind bushes,
from the cornfield-
perhaps they have slept
in the barn on cool nights.

My theory is they are
souls of the obdurate
in repentant contemplation
for theft, murder, adultery-
for harboring evil thoughts
during hard labor, a hard life.

Liz Haight

If you've any comments on this poem, Liz Haight would be pleased to hear from you.