Wednesday 15 October 2014


If it were deserved
It would not be Mercy
Said the mother to the king

It’s badly needed now
That a long Indian
Summer has suddenly


Bleak and bitter
The wind rushing
Through the open
Doors of a cold church

We turn on every light
To offset this noontime

The sadness of a life
Once full of innocent
Promise and hope


We will not belittle
The damage done
The legacy of hurt

We the undeserving

And God alone
Can make sense
Of all the  wrong

Tame the wild
Impulse of a man

Fatal addiction

And heal what
Will not or does
Not want healing

Mercy is what
We are looking for

Stirring in the womb
That is best understood
By motherhood

Abundant as the
Rain torrenting down
On his remains

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