Small Mercies

I envy – and I recognize my
irony – those who can pray
praises to fill a censer,
certain of their hope.
Open and raw,
Abba, Father, I cry only
leniency, relief, mercy.
See me? Small though I am?

Oh, I am worn out,
outdone, overrun,
run down. I need filling up.
Upon this rock, I listen:
Envy grows no good fruit –
root down my soul, water me.
Even here, tenderly, meekly,
leaves unfurl, silver and new.

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10 thoughts on “Small Mercies

  1. This is not only lovely, but heartfeelingly, vulnerably beautiful. I love all those long e sounds, too, how the penultimate line in the second stanza sends us back to the penultimate line in the first. And the last line, ❤

    • Cool, that was meant to be the turning point where some guidance was received to inform the last few lines, and the tone shift.

    • It took some wrangling to get it to build again – tonally it would’ve been very easy to keep diminishing into hopelessness, but I wanted some hope in there.

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