Crying Mercy

I feel as though I'm between the devil and the deep sea. Helplessness, like a gale, culls me away from existence. From all clutches of stresses and strains, I want to be free Moments move as though streams with no sense of deliverance. With sloth, wrath, envy, and pride, my plates and cups are full I thirst for mercy, compassion, forgiveness, and healing. I wash and wash my linen, which soon turns again soiled wool. Why do my jars of hemlock provoke in me a proud feeling? Like a child fallen into a marshy pit, I raise my hands. Tears secrete from the wells of my heart and flow through my eyes. My life has often been like a dream of desert lands. Will it be quenched with drops of grace and reach the divine highs? Lone I sail on deep seas at black nights in my broken boat. Far from feeling of finesse, farther from fullness, I float.