Pope Francis
Mercy comes like the soft-unfurling
tongues of spring
into our muted
soliloquies of despair.
Mercy comes like flocks of light
landing on the ledges
of our towered darkness
the bright doves of hope.
Mercy comes like the salving touch
of healers' hands
over our ruinous
injuriousness.
Mercy comes like a child softly singing
before sleep,
swaying us through the night
in the deep-curled cradle of love.
Beautiful! We are both writing about God's cradle! I love the quatrains and the repetition of "Mercy" and the structure they offer. I like, too, the centered lines, they offer a softness to me. So glad to see this post. Just thinking how much I miss the love and light that comes through your poems!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful metaphors and honesty, as well, and as always!
ReplyDeleteThank you dear friend. I love cradles too!
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