Small Mercies
I survived on small mercies, not miracles.
My bank account hit that quiet number
that makes you stop breathing for a second.
Not zero,
but close enough to taste it.
﹁﹂
So I started counting different things.
Not in a motivational way
more like a scavenger hunt
to keep my brain from chewing itself.
﹁﹂
One: the bus driver waited
When he saw me running,
bag thumping my hip,
dignity trailing behind.
﹁﹂
Two: the corner shop guy
threw in an extra lemon
because “it’s gonna rain.”
He said it like a gift.
﹁﹂
Three: hot water.
God, hot water.
I let it run over my hands
until they looked less like work
and more like hands again.
﹁﹂
Four: a text from my friend
no advice,
just a meme and a “u alive?”
and I laughed,
which felt illegal.
﹁﹂
Five: the sky at 6:12 p.m.
turning peach for no reason,
as if beauty doesn’t check your balance.
﹁﹂
My hands were empty, yeah,
But somehow I held these small mercies
like coins warmed in a pocket—
not enough to buy a new life,
but enough
to make this one
a little less cruel.
About the Creator
Milan Milic
Hi, I’m Milan. I write about love, fear, money, and everything in between — wherever inspiration goes. My brain doesn’t stick to one genre.
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Comments (2)
There are so many quotable lines in this. I love how you wove the emotion of loss into the visceral worry of not having enough materially.
I love how you've expressed finding meaning in small, ordinary moments. The simplest things can really keep us going.