The Shepherd’s Knife

The flock huddles close,

bleating warnings of shadows stretching long—

a whispered fear of jagged teeth,

the lurking hunger in the dark.

Woolen bodies press together,

comfort found in numbers,

safety in the familiar call

of the one who leads them home.

The wolf—

a legend stitched into their bones,

a tale passed through trembling breath,

the reason they stay, the reason they kneel.

But when the night is still,

when the stars blink solemn and silent,

it is not the wolf who comes—

it is the shepherd.

With steady hands, he strokes their heads,

a voice like warm wind through the pasture,

until the blade sings soft against their trust,

a crimson truth spilling at his feet.

And in their fading eyes, a final question—

was the wolf ever the danger,

or just the lie that kept them tame?