Gleam of the instruments
On the silver platter
Reflect fluorescent photons
And x-ray waves

While the blood on the table
Acts as ink blotters
Whiting out stains of pink
Tearing into the wounds to help

Stitch the pain back together
Weaving skin as a basket
Patching where it can
Pulling where it can’t

Butterfly bandages
Septic wraps
Disinfectants, painkillers
Bullet-riddled plate carriers

Combat medicine in the heat
Of firefights
No one ever asked to be nursed
During vicious times

No matter, not their problem
I am here to heal those
Who have nearly

I am without borders
I have but two allies
The scalpel in my hand
And a pistol on standby

In order to fortify
My office and defend
My patients, my patience
Is unmatched by invaders

Wounds close
Shrapnel extracted
Comrades revived
Crisis protracted

Engaging hallway
Lifting bullets away
From the skin
To stim and unappend

I am your doctor
I am the watcher
Of the fighting fierce
Men who need my aid

Embrace the hurt, my friend
Let it come in its waves
I will nurse you back to health
Get back into action’s fray

I participate to mitigate
Harm done to my squad
I use my allies to quell
The turning tides of battle

In elongated sieges
And shootout scenes
I holster my pistol to defend
And don my gloves for wounds to mend

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: