She is a woman with
blackened nails on all fingers
blisters cover her toes and scabs
litter her skin.

Her periods flow heavy
pain's always immense.
Alone, she cries in agony,
curled fetal over soiled linen.

Her man has a mistress
Her father, too many wives
Her sons, foul tempered, lazy, rebellious--
All pimped her for their highs.

Mercy is a woman
Her visions as clear as mud.
She's a heart as big as life and
Believes all things happen for the good.

In her life, nothing's quite right.
That's why in my eye
Mercy is this woman
Forever wanting and forever denied.

© 1997-1998 - Camille L. Harris

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