guide for a lost who's mistaken herself for a sheep - Isabella Stewart

after El Mundo, Paco Pomet 

listen, little one: you are not a sheep. you do not have

hooves to pound into the dirt floor of this field you call home,

and cannot bleat against the thunder of cotton candy

clouds from above. so, if not a sheep, what are you?

look up, for an answer. bathe the whites of your eyes

in the clouds’ holy tears, and do not stare too long, or

else those tears will collect inside your head and split

your shoulders’ wiry spindles straight through.

when the clouds go away, the sun whispers against

winter. the sunlight scintillates through you slow as a

crawl. is it trying to fill your lungs with fire, and turn

your body into a furnace? will it burn you

from the inside out? yes, it is true: sheep burn.

but you won’t. look inside yourself: what do you see?

feel your toes digging into the earth, the sun’s heat

smothering your cracked, austere human knees.

you are no sheep, little one. you walk this field

human, with a shepherd’s crook in your hand.

 – Isabella Stewart is currently a Running Start senior at Highline College. She loves stories of all kinds, writing, coffee, overcast weather, and fantastical video games.