Thursday, January 17, 2008

War Wounds

The surgeon left behind
a c shaped scar to mark the place
he cast the monster out.

On the ward, curtained out of sight,
Gerry roared delirious,
raging against the night.
He’d read that poem and had no intention
of going without a fight.

Angels gossiped in the half light,
discussed holidays in Spain.
My heart was fluttering wildly,
as their soft voices drifted
through the morphine’s sweet refrain.

Who can explain?
Who can tell me why
the skilled and gentle hands
soothing my body
belonged to another man
from Palestine,
so far from home,
practising the mercy
that we so easily deny?

Autobiographical. I'm still in one piece ( minus 1.6 kilograms!!! )and aiming to be fighting fit as soon as possible. This poem is for Mr. Ashour, Mr. Gibson, Leslie, Jane, Michelle, Louise, Martin, Reuben, Libby and all the other members of the Cardiac HDU team in Morriston Hospital ( some of whose names have slipped away in the mist ) who saw me through and not forgetting Kath, Sally and Richard who have been at my side all the way!


  1. Anonymous4:04 PM

    Good to see you home and on the mend. All our love Abi & Jason xx