There is an ocean
deeper than sorrow,
wider than the cry of a thousand aching hearts.
It is Mercy,
unfolding from the pierced side of Christ,
spilling into the dust of our ruin.

Faustina saw it:
a torrent of Light,
two rays like living breath,
one of blood and one of water,
justice and pardon,
the wound and the healing,
the cross and the crown.

She heard it whispered:
“Tell them I am Mercy itself.
Tell them My Heart is open wide.”

And so she did,
with trembling hands, with a soul pressed into prayer,
with pages soaked in awe.

O Mercy,
not the cold, reluctant pardon of a tired king,
but a rushing, reckless love
that will not turn away.

It asks for so little:
a breath of trust,
a whisper of return,
the smallest door opened from within.

Jesus, I trust in You!
words like a river,
words like a surrender,
words that lift the soul from ruin to resurrection.

O Heart of Mercy,
shape us in the mold of Your compassion;
let us be wounds that pour healing,
let us be hands that do not withdraw,
let us be eyes that see no sin too great
for Love to overcome.

Here we are,
kneeling at the edge of Your ocean,
learning to believe again
that nothing,
not even our despair,
is greater than Your mercy.