Musings of Mercy

I am empathy…

I am love…

I am hope…

I require you to think beyond yourself and your own situation…

I require you to see things from all sides…

I am something that needs no blame to be passed…

I am something that requires a connection

on a human level…

I am Mercy… and these are my musings …

Father and Son

“What do you know, anyways!” the boy says, out of turn, in a raised curt voice. He is nine years old. This response is not what his father expected. All he did, was questioned him about why his son needed to have a new popular age restricted Playstation game. “Everybody is playing it except me’, he complained. ‘You never understand, you never listen’, the boy almost shouts. His father is caught by surprise, turns to his son with rage building in his eyes, in his stance.  A million thoughts running through this fathers head. How is this little person whom I love and was cradling in my hands, a minute ago talking to me in this way? the father thinks to himself. The child’s eyes were wide like a doe-eyed deer in the light, looking at his father, those eyes pleading for mercy. The boy was unsure as to what was about to happen next. It’s too late now, the boy thinks to himself, he has said the words, in the way he said them, already. He is doomed, he thinks. This cannot be undone. He braces himself stubbornly expecting some sort of consequence for his actions.

“What do I  know?” asks his father quietly, eerily. His deep voice saying very clearly and very slowly  “I know I am your father. I know I have just asked you a valid question and I know that you’re about to answer me in a completely different way! So let’s start this conversation again, shall we?”

Mercy me… with me this boy and his father can find a compromise, find conversation, find a way towards each other … with me their eyes soften…a smile and hug later and all is well.

His and Hers

He grabbed her hand as she tried to walk away. To him, she just wouldn’t listen. To her, he had nothing of substance to say. She looked at his hand, his  fingers tightly wrapped around her wrist, still she could feel the warmth of this touch. “What do you have to say, anyways!”, she says. “I don’t know what will make you see, all I know is I have nothing more to say”, she says despondent. His eyes pleading for understanding. “You know I need this. You know it’s not about them and you know, it’s not you.” But she didn’t know, how is it not her? and not them? It’s gone on for too long, this same conversation in these same voices, her desperate for answers and him helpless with none. He remains still, unmoved by her emotion.  She doesn’t recognised this stoic person in front of her. He is not the same, she doesn’t understand what has happened. She will never understand.

As her hand slips out of his grip, he sees her slipping away. Still, he does nothing, he says nothing, watches silently. He looks at her hoping she will understand and have mercy, give him grace until he figures out the words. He feels helpless. She is helpless herself. She is desperate for something other than this reality but this is all she is left with. She drifts away, there is nothing else left to say.

Mercy you…. without me there is little to say as they persist to hold on to the hurt and they have no way towards each other… each holding on to their respective bruised emotions not wanting to see the others’ plight….

Without me there can be no us.

 

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