I saw mercy jumping like a frog

by Vaschel Miller

I saw mercy jumping
like a frog into muddy water;
mercy like unclear decisions made headlong
like rivers rush forward propelling mercy
like volcanic life-blood pouring out
on a splinter-rough cross like thunderstorms
beating down mercy on dust that does not
have the presence of mind to drink like mercy
pulling a cocoon out of fuzzy sleep
into mercy soaring between buttercups like mercy like
sunshine prying through leaves to whisper
mercy like the first drink after long thirst is a mercy
like waking up and finding the world real like
trudging toward home and lifting your eyes
to see mercy running down the dusty lane.

Vaschel comes from Tennessee, where she likes to listen to thunderstorms and cicadas.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy