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.
Mark Amorose teaches poetry and humane letters at Tempe Preparatory Academy, in Tempe, Arizona, and resides with his wife, Maria, and their seven children in the neighboring city of Mesa. His poems have most recently appeared in Measure, The Lyric, and Dappled Things.