To Apoll么n Agyieus

Incense burning in a bowl

O Apoll么n who pours forth arrows
running like rainwater through furrows,
shield us from your volley, grant us health,
that precious state worth more than all wealth,
to weather the pandemic this year.

O Apoll么n who protects streetways,
grant us crucial goods without delays.
As we cross thresholds with new unease,
keep our hands from touching this disease.
May alertness kick into high gear.

O Apoll么n, averting all ills,
come with Hygeia who deftly fills
mind, body, and soul with common sense
鈥 for public health the surest defense 鈥
that to her guidance we may adhere.

O Apoll么n, if we should fall sick,
send great Askl锚pios to come quick,
inspiring our doctors鈥 guiding hands,
to cure us as much as Fate withstands.
May his healing touches remain near.

O Apoll么n whose pillar stands high,
grounded in G锚, reaching the wide sky,
we pray that goodness alone touches
our lives, that illness鈥 severe clutches,
O Lord of Plague, fail to seize us here.

馃毆馃檶馃彉

Update: I’m adding a Creative Commons license to this specific poem. If you want to use the poem in a way that isn’t covered by the license, contact me, and we can sort something out!

Creative Commons License
To Apollon Agyieus (this specific poem) by Kaye Boesme is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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