The endless mercy of her love
is a sustaining salvation.
Her judgment of my feeble soul—
the most awesome revelation.  

Her love is a merciful hand
to the undeserved in despair.
She judged my woeful heart’s intent
and placed her absolution there.

She cannot love without mercy,
as the living depend on rain.
She judged my spirit perfectly.
Her kindness washed away my pain.

The mercy with which she loves me—
the greatest blessing one can give.
Her judgment’s better than my own,
it makes the world in which I live.

I don’t understand why love should save.
It’s sinking still
Stills of whiskey, mellow bitter.
Metal tinned, heavy and satisfying
It makes you weep and rage and sleep.
Aching toes and numb cheeks, silent sobbing into your pillow
For reasons that haven’t come to you yet.
Do you feel saved? For numbness? Dripping
Gaping mouths, searching.
Am I talking about love or a monster?
We can’t tell.
I won’t argue with results, fact sheets still dripping romantic slurs
But I will argue that saving is not what you think it is. Mercy
Is not what you think you’ve made it.

a child of God.

Some nights
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
And in His mercy,
let me die as I sleep.

But instead
He fills me with His view of reality
And in His mercy
He brings me His peace.

"Do not worry I will be gentle," said the wolf.

"You mean to tell me, a beast as monstrous as you, is capable of mercy," said the traveler.

"No, not mercy," said the wolf. “Gentleness, there is a difference. I will devour you tenderly.”