The Shepherd

 

A piece about trusting a quiet guiding presence—whether you name it God, faith, conscience, or purpose—while moving through a dangerous, morally complex world. 

Simply expressing:

Live kindly.

Create honestly.

Walk forward even when the debt feels impossible.

You are not alone, even when control feels invisible.

Title.

The Shepherd.

(A lone voice whispers)

There's a shepherd I know. He follows me everywhere I go.

Come rain, wind, or snow. 

He whispers:

Go show the world. Sing your soul's very song. Be kind and compassionate, and I will always follow along. 

And so it is as this I give.

While I pause in green pastures to restore my soul beneath the still waters of my goal.

To reach Heaven beyond the shadows of death when I have paid life's unpayable debt.

To get my feet wet in rivers of righteousness and forgiveness as the shepherd is with me.

A voice that comforts and guides.

As time flies by while he protects my soul and prays to deliver me, perhaps like you, from evil and Sheol.

And those invisible principalities in control.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Pact

(A lone voice whispers)

There are strange things man should not see.

Mythical creatures hidden in the half-light glow of dark places below, where it's too hot to snow.

Wild plays of rebellion and submission.

Far from church pulpits or crescent glows from so long ago.

I still can remember the deal I made when it-I into my house bade.

What was I to know when The Elder contract I did sign?

Only to hear my angel bell no longer chime.

So here I sit by the sea at a quarter to three, waiting for the thing man shouldn't see.

Will thou pray for me?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Dearly Departed

 

Does sudden love-loss turn life into a living afterlife—where the body survives, but the heart remains buried with the dearly beloved?

Title.

The Dearly Departed.

(A lone voice whispers)

How sad am I when inside I remember the painful day I cried?

Where I stood when I received the call that my raven-haired bride had suddenly died.

Every star seemed to dim, and happiness waved no more as sorrow washed up on my shore.

Oh, why does it have to be this way when you're left alone to cope, when love has breached the Dead Man's Slope?

And all you can do is pray to dream—you'll meet again in some eternal time stream.

To once more glimpse their precious face, which brought such tranquility and grace. 

But now that God's deep voice has whispered its divine choice.

And stated its life-changing decision, which cannot be rejoiced.

All my old love has turned to pain, as I no longer cry in vain but now just walk on in an invisible rain.

No more to love. No more to feel anything that's real—except the sharp blade of grief's internal steel.

So now I'm cursed to walk in the Dead Man's Tide until I walk by her side.

Cursed forever to remember the day she died.

The beautiful woman who once whispered yes when she was my fair bride.

Then left me forever.

To wander the lands of the Watery-eyed.

(C)

Copyright and John Duffy

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Is this a curse of living?

 

Senryū

5/7/5

(A lone voice whispers)

Did you cheat on me

Untrusted relationships 

The curse of living 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Unjudged

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Well, hello from just below hell, where lost souls like me go.

To wallow in limbo and be swallowed by the ever-shifting shadows of death's last frown.

Until I too walk underground, upon its unholy black ground.

While waiting like a cargo slave for a certain sound. 

Of redemption no less.

Whilst dreaming of times bound in red tape, no longer around.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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My true love called Jessie Lee

 

MONOLOGUE SCRIPT

Title:

My true love called Jessie Lee

SETTING:

A stranger kneels in the dark with a white candle burning and begins praying.

(A lone voice whispers)

I knew her, my Jessie Lee, like a gift from God. From the spiritual realm. Unmeasured by time itself.

When Love and Fate entwined like red wine and water to make our own beloved communion wine.

But now it's too late.

For like her grandmother and mother before her, she now sings one of heaven's divine love songs.

I tried singing one after she died. Drank so much old whiskey but couldn't sing along.

But I still try to believe as I grieve that you sent her here to me, O Lord.

To undo so many wrongs.

That you sent her straight into my hard, lonely life like an angel from beyond the sky.

Where she brought me true happiness before you called her back and she had to die.

For that I am grateful, Lord. For before she came, I was broken and on the brink.

All my hopes and dreams just seemed to float away and sink.

But when my beloved Jessie Lee came and called my name.

She brought that something so special that your sun seemed to shine ever so brighter and my soul felt lighter.

I know she's there watching in the shadows with you, O Lord.

So, hello Jessie Lee.

I just want to thank you for being you and leading me out of the darkness. 

Even though you're back, watching by the Holy Sea.

It's why I pray.

Pray every day like today.

Even though my broken heart skips.

For one day I know we'll be reunited. Just you wait and see.

The lonely cowboy and his angel called Jessie Lee.

But until then.

Until then I'll face the world and all its dangers and hardships with that smile you both gave me.

(Bows. Closes his eyes and whispers)

Amen.

(The stranger then bends and blows out the candle. The room fills with darkness)

(C) Copyright John Duffy

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Danse Macabre

 

Danse Macabre

(A lone voice whispers)

If I died tomorrow, would you still miss me?

Would you remember the first day you met or kissed me?

If my long walk home to atone was announced by the sudden ringing of a golden bell, would you cry as I broke life's spell?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

A poem exploring existential vulnerability:

A fear of dying unloved or unremembered.

A longing for emotional permanence in an impermanent world.

A gentle confrontation with death, not in terror, but in lonely honesty.

It’s not morbid—it’s tender. Death is simply the lens through which the speaker asks the most human question of all:

“Did I matter to you?”

Do you think you will be remembered in ten years?

Beyond birthdays or at Christmas?

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The Dream

(A lone voice whispers)

As I dreamt on the 18th of January, I pondered vulnerability.

A bearded man in a white robe appeared to me. 

He said, 

“John, I have a message for you. Take my hand, my son.”

As I took his hand, he took me to a huge grey and black mountain.

Gazing at me with deep brown, mesmerizing eyes, he continued.

“When you were all born into this realm before me, and all in the highest of heights.

We gave you all a beautiful light to show the world, but when you entered the world and listened to its descriptions of happiness, many of you built these mountains before us.

Mountains of fear, self-doubt, and the manipulation of nether beings, which slowly cover that beautiful light we once gave you to share.

Can you still feel yours, John?”

He asked inquisitively.

I answered.

“A pulse of light that sometimes appears when I feel lucid, 

My Lord.”

I whispered.

“Take my hand, John.

Do not be afraid, for when you allow me back into your life,

And I'll open up those small caverns within these mountains of fears and self-doubts to once again lead you to the light.

 You once truly loved.

Your own divine right to serenade your own individuality and intrinsic happiness.”

As the Lord took my hand.

He approached the huge mountain before me, and there before me was a minute crack, and we shrank and entered it. A strange yellow doorway appeared and grew to accommodate us.

As we walked, 

The Lord said.

“Through renewed faith.

One can find a way to the light.”

As we walked, the mountain started breaking down before us, and as his hand increased in heat,

I felt light of all my burdens, and when I looked up. 

A bright yellow, shimmering flame lay before me in the distance.

The last words I heard before I awoke were simply this. Which I leave here for you to read.

T

The Dream 

(A lone voice whispers)

As I dreamt on the 18th of January, I pondered vulnerability.

A bearded man in a white robe appeared to me. 

He said, 

“John, I have a message for you. Take my hand, my son.”

As I took his hand, he took me to a huge grey and black mountain.

Gazing at me with deep brown, mesmerizing eyes, he continued.

“When you were all born into this realm before me, and all in the highest of heights.

We gave you all a beautiful light to show the world, but when you entered the world and listened to its descriptions of happiness, many of you built these mountains before us.

Mountains of fear, self-doubt, and the manipulation of nether beings, which slowly cover that beautiful light we once gave you to share.

Can you still feel yours, John?”

He asked inquisitively.

I answered.

“A pulse of light that sometimes appears when I feel lucid, 

My Lord.”

I whispered.

“Take my hand, John.

Do not be afraid, for when you allow me back into your life,

And I'll open up those small caverns within these mountains of fears and self-doubts to once again lead you to the light.

 You once truly loved.

Your own divine right to serenade your own individuality and intrinsic happiness.”

As the Lord took my hand.

He approached the huge mountain before me, and there before me was a minute crack, and we shrank and entered it. A strange yellow doorway appeared and grew to accommodate us.

As we walked, 

The Lord said.

“Through renewed faith.

One can find a way to the light.”

As we walked, the mountain started breaking down before us, and as his hand increased in heat,

I felt light of all my burdens, and when I looked up. 

A bright yellow, shimmering flame lay before me in the distance.

The last words I heard before I awoke were simply this. Which I leave here for you to read.

“Believe in me and be reborn to the light.

 Tell those in need."

(C) Copyright John Duffy

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Have you been abandoned too?

 

A dark, sad poem where grief has curdled into myth.

Whispering about someone who

loved deeply and dangerously but then punished intensely when they lost their counterpart.

To then never rebuild a safer self.

And rather than healing, romanticizes about the fall because the fall still feels more real than empty survival.

At the core, it’s a dark love elegy about passion judged and destroyed.

A soulmate who escaped and a speaker left behind to rot beautifully in memory, bitterness, and longing.

Title.

Have you been abandoned too?

(A lone voice whispers)

We once rode wild horses over rough concourses.

Once had raw appetites that would make Prometheus jealous in all weathers.

Loved welcoming in a delicious, heavy-breathing incarnations of sin. To show and bathe us in revelations of how emotional it felt to win.

But one day our beloved red curtains were shut. Shut forever by those sad fools stuck knee-deep in life's ruts.

The tut-tuts and second-class muts envious of those who seemed to have too much, like us. 

That sad day you caught the last train to Vienna, never to return again. 

While my tight grip on life weakened as all my futures jumped like lemmings into a massive abyss of assassins and grave diggers.

 People draggers armed with sharp, inhuman daggers, who loved to poke like a two-faced joke. As I watched and choked. 

I know your world is full of snake bites like mine. Lost and alone as your muscles and sinews pine.

Lost in an interdimensional world, remembering our good times. When the real world was spider blue with webs in every corner. 

Strung up high, carrying trophies of me and you. 

So if you happen to read this, feel within each line my dragon's kiss. For apart I sleep now in the devil's sweet abyss. 

Playing Pontoon. Hidden and coughing with demons within its mist.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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The Snow of Life

 

Is life a temporary, shared journey where every step matters?

Do we leave traces through love, connection, and experiences?

And when the walking is done, do we return peacefully to something eternal, where struggle no longer exists?

Title.

The Snow of Life.

(A lone voice whispers)

We come, we go.

When our feet touches the snow of life and into it we flow.

We meet.

When our feet take us to others. Our father, sister, brother, or mother.

When our feet touches the snow of life and into it we flow.

We meet and greet friends or lovers as we grow old and even settle down. Maybe having children or the odd pet around.

When our feet take us into life to swim barefoot in its sacred waters.

When our feet touches the snow of life and into it we flow.

And at the very end, when our poor feet are tired, we walk back through our snow filled with so many different sized footsteps.

Back to the very beginning.

As from life, we retire.

Where our feet no longer touches the snow of life, and into Eternity we flow.

To join so many others.

In a place where endless tears are sometimes wept.

For there is no more snow, only time to reflect.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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