ICU, I See You

This gift is yours

if you will accept it.

Taken on its own

it is by no means the most costly.

Later I will give you

a certain formless gift,

bottled in my attempt

to contain matchless beauty—

but for today I offer you

gold, once molten,

now hardened, shaped

and polished—a sign

of fidelity—not mine,

yours. Take this token

so you will remember

to forgive my eternal

adulteries. Strings

disintegrate, metal endures,

as does your kingdom.

This gift is yours

if you will accept it.

And here is another gift.

When used it makes

           

the shape

          of

       wordless

prayer.

You never followed

our black and white liturgies

printed in neat rows on a press,

recited heartless by the masses.

Priest, your teaching is as the gray smoke

of incense burning, fragrant,

simultaneously stinging and soothing our senses,

mediating transcendence and immanence.

Pray for us sinners in this the hour of your death.

In your passing, bid us passage to the cloud of unknowing

so, contemplating your ineffability,

we may know your glory.

Finally, a third. Use it in wasteful extravagance

as if death will come by day’s end.

Break the bottle and let beauty flow where she will.

Why must you be liquid and wisp

and what will become of my ring, your ring?

Come back to me.

Do not leave.

You are my only true friend,

your love—the only perfect.

Prophet, give me an allegory of hope.

Christ, anointed one, save and reign.

Adam, dying one, resuscitate yourself—

for the breath of God surrounds you

as frankincense

and you are more boundless sea,

like the fragrance of myrrh,

than dust of land.

See these gifts?

They are worth more

than their set price.

Accept them in your mercy.

ICU, I See You

a poem by Troy Cady