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.
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