What Pleaseth Thee, O'Lord? Poem by Kiranjit Singh Bajaj

Thy name is Mercy, yet we feel pain,
Some born to suffer for an embedded past,
Ordained to your decree,
They say nothing can be wrong,
You pay for your deeds, in repentance lies the key,
Naive as can be, enlighten me O'Lord,
How doth one repent for deeds unknown?
When you choose to veil the past,
And in your justice lies our salvation.

To err human, to forgive divine,
Yet the toll doth not seem to end,
When thou art the doer and we thy tools,
When all our actions preordained,
And nothing can be beyond,
Naive as can be, enlighten me O'Lord,
When thou doeth and blesseth all,
Why do we feel pain?
When Grace is thy name.

'Tis blessed the human form,
The highest order of them all,
You merit all the finer senses,
'Tis your golden chance, they say,
Naive as can be, enlighten me O'Lord,
What can we really do to pleaseth thee,
When none that we do is really ours,
Yet you to choose to keep us at bay,
What use doth this special form?