Amanda Aremisia Forrester
Asklepios, mortal-born Son of Apollo
I pray to You, Divine Healer
Who knows the pains of mortal bodies
Who knows the woes of human minds
The pang of hunger and ache of bones
Kindly and wise, most merciful of the Gods
Who raised the dead from Haides’ shadowy realm.
The Khthonic King complained to Zeus
Who stuck You down with a lightning bolt
For violating the natural order.
But You were so loved that owl-eyed Athene
And Your Father the far-shooting Apollo
Pleaded the case before the Olympian King
And You were brought back, an eternal and undying God.
Your ancient temples were places of healing
Sanctuaries for the sick
Your priests were healers, the first doctors
And You come to Your worshipers in dreams,
Telling them how to cure themselves.
Hippocrates drew His inspiration from You, snaky God of Kos,
And looked to Your example when he created the Physician’s Oath.
Guide my hands, Son of Apollo, so I may heal
Guide my heart, Son of Koronis, so I may have empathy
Guide my mind, Epidaurian, so I may understand
Guide my steps, Kindly Asklepios, so I may I begin to walk the path of the healer.
