the greeks viii. achelois

      come, bring me your wounded, your broken
                     let them bathe in my pool
                 the shattered and bleeding will come to no harm further
            care for the sick, pray for the wild
                                we are all children of the moon here

                 ancestors guide you,
                       the gods will watch over you
                     as I return your pain to the earth,
                 wretched and tired, overburdened by the thought of forever.

           lay your scars at my altar and pray for forgiveness
                       I shall carry the call of mercy betwixt my shoulders
                   lest I fail in my duty to honor the injured.

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