I am a nail in the door of the fold
Entombed in cypress from before my time
Dead and rusty, I go neither in nor out
I am the missing stone at the gap in the wall
I watch as the thief passes within
I lie in the path and sheep tumble over me
I am a wolf in the guise of a ram
I see the ewes bunching as they strain at the gate
And press myself among them
I am the bramble that catches the wool
I am the thorn that infects the hoof
I am the pink that makes the eye run
I am no shepherd
I am a hireling
Who runs at the squeak of danger
Where is my flock?
Who heeds my voice?
Whose needs do I satisfy?
I roam along troubled waters
At the foot of desolate barrens
I destroy the soul
Yes, I am but a lamb
Enthralled by an echo
The sound of my own voice
After having been at the center of so much of the action, Peter again finds himself an observer as the disciples follow Jesus toward Jerusalem. He “gets” Jesus’ parables about the sheep and shepherd, but has a hard time seeing himself as anything but a fifth wheel at this point. Doubt and self-loathing creep in again.