The Madonna
my presence was needed
the announcement echoed thru hospital halls
which meant the medical team assembled
but that kind of expertise
was not why i was called
my lot in this equation, a signature
i was in another room in a discussion
MIT graduate, engineering, solid atheist
we were discussing the concept of God
his hostility toward my position
Spiritual Care had been long quelled
i simply came by to offer services
a morning newspaper, or a sandwich
i did not come to save his soul
from those lapping eternal fires of hell
carry the gospel, use few words theology
just a caring offer of services available
seems we had a lot in common
with tension, shear, and stress
and the quantum world below reality
he was dying of melanoma, leaving soon
going back to Africa along the river
his last email was a picture from a balcony
below the Congo River
his note, God and i are at peace
gratitude it was not one of those duties
called to a room and a young lady, age 12
was back for more chemo
leukemia had returned
i gathered the family together
holding hands and praying a good outcome
as the child's hand folded into mine
i was to know, she would not be returning
those fields children abandon themselves in
these would be her last days
these are moments in Gethsemane
when disquiet falters steps
and the strength of His Will
gathers the courage to pick up the cross
follow in the path you were given
a journey to master every fear
later alone, in prayer, you simply weep
in arms of unconditional love
i continued to the room
where the medical team was assembled
i was handed the form to witness
a typical DNR, and as i signed
i caught her face upon mine
there in my eyes was the serenity
of a beautiful Madonna, meeting her eyes
my soul was grasped with ataraxia
she was, my best guess, early fifties
breast cancer was the diagnoses
the final stages were in full command
with my signature, i was no longer needed
the medical team would finish their job
later i would be buying a coffee
when one of those callings within
you just never challenge
i returned to the room
of this Madonna as the Paraclete commands
to offer counsel or comfort
the conversation will be forever
mine to keep, but i can say this
of all the passings i was to experience
those who walked away into that veil
in a state of peace knowing the promises
are upon the wings of faith
there are those rarer moments
i have seen some of the human bitterness
the acerbic producing a miasmatic room
where shields of Grace and Forgiveness
falters no flight of the Paraclete
my most precious memory
is the Madonna, whose hand i held
and God graced me with this precious gift
to witness happiness in death
those doors He presents one never knows
you trust and like Daniel, walk into the lion's den
OKC 06/22
Copyright © Timothy Ray | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment