Thoughts on Mercy


A world without mercy
is like a room with no windows—
all painted walls,
mechanical hums,
and closed doors,
with only the power you can purchase.


A young woman limps
out of the 7-Eleven…
bone thin, blowin in the wind,
carrying a squall—an infant by hip.
Where is your brother Abel?
Unheard, unseen.
How can it be?
Sheep outnumber the wolves
a billion times over.
Do you see what I see?


Mercy is a window
with slatted blinds,
light beaming through—
morning sun or moonlight,
pelting rain with lightning,
birdsong, hints of green
and blue— hidden in part,
but still within view.

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