#mercy (a poem for those who need some tender grace)
Fat achey tears ran down my face and mingled with sweat, in the middle of a spin class. I’m not sure why I cried but something told me it was about mercy.
Mercy. For myself and all the life that’s lost in my stories.
Mercy. For this broken world and its hard-worn surfaces.
Mercy. For the overwhelm of hurt people hurting people.
Mercy. For the silent fighters who look hidden illnesses in the eyes and say, Not today, Satan, not today.
Mercy. For the broken, who are so shattered their words pierce our souls like splinters of glass.
Mercy. For the wounded man who masks his fear with righteous anger and hurtful jabs.
Mercy. For the lonely child whose only comfort is a torn blanket on concrete bench.
Mercy. For the adult that child will grow up to be.
Mercy. For Mother Nature and her smog-filled skies, her carelessly polluted oceans and her dying forests.
Mercy. For the newborns who know not what the future holds.
Mercy. For the adults who do.
