Jesus left the ninety-nine to find the one lost
and maybe that one lost, if its story be told,
was the only one not left behind, but truly
found, scooped up in the Savior’s arms.
You have to get lost to be found, I think.
You have to lose the flock,
go out on your own two shaky legs
into the dark fields, trading all there evidently is
for all that might be, short of any real evidence.
Thinking maybe of finding your own way,
but not really caring anymore,
just tired to the bone of the painful,
the false and fleeting and at that moment
of utter despair and defeat, maybe
you get lifted up, or die trying – and perhaps,
carried away, led – not back into the fold but safely
released onto those metaphorical green pastures
to fatten you up before your next adventure.
O child of God, to escape the counterfeit,
surround yourself with the Mystery.