Under the Mercy

by Elizabeth Jennings

2nd Place, Poetry, Create | Encounter 2025

Here we are

Earthworms, cut in two,

Growing back to root forward;

Skyworms, digging home with no wings,

Silkworms, boiled inside our cocoons.

Yet enough take flight

In a field under a storm under God

To hold hope.

I hold the shards of the shattered bowl

Dropped by my tiny hands.

I hold the shouting that came after.

Is anyone there to pick up the pieces?

Of the shards of the image of God?

All around us

A still pool, an honest mirror,

A creature, lost in the dirt,

In a field under the stars under God

Bravely thrashing

--Will it make it out alive?

We are eels seen from a glass-bottomed boat—

The dome of heaven—

Our very selves too slippery to grasp

The tap-tapping of angels

—How can we hear them?

In a pool under the sun under God

I hold what is barren and bursting,

A branch bewildered by the glimpse of a tree.

I hold a new creature, God’s homily, in me,

Straining to be free

Not knowing what that means.

When pain ferments in a dark place

What will it taste like?

That depends what’s added to it

In a heart trembling open Under the Mercy.

Artist Statement:

This poem emerged after I attended last year's Texas Right to Life convention. I was seeking an artful way to express the pain and possibility I felt to the pro-choice Christians I know. The poem speaks to the transcendent value of every human life, however difficult and complex. We are all of us, mother and child, and innocent and guilty, Under the Mercy.