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  • Casualty

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    sam
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    This poem describes the horrors that doctors see after battles as they try to treat countless injured people brought to them. The injured have crushed fingers, burnt eyes, and damaged hearts and bodies of every color. As the doctors work through the night suturing wounds, the fighting continues to escalate with even more deadly weapons bringing even greater casualties. The poem criticizes those continuing the violence as "idiots".

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    This poem describes the horrors that doctors see after battles as they try to treat countless injured people brought to them. The injured have crushed fingers, burnt eyes, and damaged hearts and bodies of every color. As the doctors work through the night suturing wounds, the fighting continues to escalate with even more deadly weapons bringing even greater casualties. The poem criticizes those continuing the violence as "idiots".

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    10 views1 page

    Casualty

    Uploaded by

    sam
    This poem describes the horrors that doctors see after battles as they try to treat countless injured people brought to them. The injured have crushed fingers, burnt eyes, and damaged hearts and bodies of every color. As the doctors work through the night suturing wounds, the fighting continues to escalate with even more deadly weapons bringing even greater casualties. The poem criticizes those continuing the violence as "idiots".

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    Casualty

    They bring us crushed fingers,


    mend it, doctor.
    They bring burnt-out eyes,
    hounded owls of hearts,
    they bring a hundred white bodies,
    a hundred red bodies,
    a hundred black bodies,
    mend it, doctor,
    on the dishes of ambulances they bring
    the madness of blood,
    the scream of flesh,
    the silence of charring,
    mend it, doctor.

    And while we are suturing


    inch after inch,
    night after night,
    nerve to nerve,
    muscle to muscle,
    eyes to sight,
    they bring in
    even longer daggers,
    even more dangerous bombs,
    even more glorious victories,

    idiots.

    Miroslav Holub

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