New Every Morning
When tiredness goes deeper than sleep, the morning itself can carry mercy.
21 pieces
When tiredness goes deeper than sleep, the morning itself can carry mercy.
An old lament finds its footing in a daily, ordinary grace.
From poems grieving a fallen city comes a word that mercy had outlasted the disaster.
An old lament finds, in the middle of grief, a mercy that does not run out.
In the ruins of a fallen city, one voice still counted on mercy at dawn.
When the night has been long, the book of Lamentations offers a mercy that resets with the dawn.
A line from Lamentations offers a way to begin again, no matter how the night has gone.
A line from Lamentations speaks to anyone who has woken up tired and begun again anyway.
When the weight of yesterday still presses, Lamentations offers a mercy that resets with the dawn.
An old lament finds its footing in the mercy that arrives with each day.
A short study on why the morning is the right hour to begin again.
A promise written in grief still holds at dawn.
When the night has been long, the oldest comfort is also the freshest.
When the night has been long, Lamentations offers not a feeling but a fact to stand on.
A line from Lamentations offers steady ground for a reader who is tired.
An old promise for a reader who woke tired.
A poet writing long ago, amid the ruins, found that mercy did not run out overnight.
When the day feels used up before it begins, Lamentations offers a mercy that does not run out.
When the night has been long, the promise of Lamentations meets you at first light.
When the night has been long, Lamentations offers not a solution but a supply.
When the night has been long, mercy is already waiting at first light.