Caduceus

Mark Amorose

Divine apothecary of the soul
who, lifted up atop that pole and peak,
beheld the prospect, limitless and bleak,
encompassing humanity in whole:
Upon that hill whose name implies its role,
to raise again the dead, restore the weak,
you made for man the medicine I seek,
elixir of the life the serpent stole.

Physician, heal the sick; the maimed refashion;
administer the poison’s antidote
compounded in the mortar of your passion
of blood wrung from a body bruised and rent—
the pestle, piercing blows the hammer smote.
Revive me with your saving Sacrament.