Prayer For The Sick

I walk into the ICU with a priest
and enter my Grandmothers room.
Her smile as radiant as the sun
chasing away the nightmares and sleepless nights,
a look exclusively for a Grandson.
The priest follows me in
and I’m positive it’s a mistake.

She was doing better…

But it’s my mistake because she shares it.
The look reserved for me
is given to him. Color comes back to her pale yellow skin
and her baggy brown eyes ignite a spark of hope
I could never give her.

The nightmares are crawling back
and I try to pinch myself awake,
but this dream I think I’m dreaming
is a manifestation of a reality
I'm trying so hard to suppress
The only thing pulling me back
is her raspy, straining voice,
“Father! It’s so good to see you.”
She speaks to him, but looks at me
saving me from myself.

His voice is soft, calm, and without a worry
like I'm laying on a grassy hill.
The smell of the beach
being carried by a gentle breeze
cleansing me of all my sins
and blowing the nightmares away.
“Marie, you look better then expected.”

She looks at him, her smile becoming weaker
and face paler the more she speaks,
“My time could come at any moment,
but I'm going to live my natural life to the end
like God intended.
It’s in his hands now.”

He holds her hand, moved by her statement,
“And thats the way it’s always been.
Lets say the prayer for the sick
so God may help you through this.”
We hold hands and bow our heads
as he begins to speak.

The prayer is lost on me
as I struggle to believe that by saying
a few words she’ll be saved
from the only thing that’s guaranteed in life.

My grandmother looks at me
relaxed for the first time since my grandfather passed.
I close my eyes willing myself to believe
in something that’s not there.
The Fathers words echo in my head
Show your mercy as you
close wounds,
cure illness,
make broken bodies whole and free downcast spirits.
Each word lightens the boulder crushing my chest
and for a moment allows me to breath again.

But then I open my eyes and nothings changed.
We’re still in the hospital
and my Grandmother is paler then before
like all her energy was drained from the prayer.
The priests voice is still soft and calm,
but when he speaks, I'm on the edge of a cliff
staring down at ridged rocks and uncontrollable waves
instead of laying on a grassy hill.

He lets go of her hands
and stares into her eyes,

Amen.