COVID wards 2020-2021
For the sake of the present / let’s just admit that thigh-deep mud & poison gas & running into machine gun fire / still belong to us all the glass-eyed / survivors who said sundown was almost worse than morning slaughters / night when stretcher-bearers could finally reach the duckboards / run toward the day’s groans caught / on barbed wire / surgeons waited in casualty clearing with their indelible ink two / possibilities / attempt & no hope by midnight under the flare of kerosene they would’ve plowed through how many limbs entrails & skulls at least a hundred per surgeon per night / months / years / in no way do I compare this to a pandemic but maybe / nature of human memory the definition / of nature how many don’t believe the lies & destinations / you never return from / who gets the ventilator what becomes of those making decisions it’s almost / the opposite of a siege inside the hospital walls / the gasping / is it shock / we had to tie down people’s hands to stop them pulling out the breathing tubes air had / a taste what happens / on a front so far away / I think those in charge call it wastage
2 thoughts on “Time & Again”
Very evocative depiction of comparable and harrowing situations. We hear a lot about PTSD suffered by soldiers, but no one talks about the PTSD suffered by health care workers because, strictly speaking their experiences don’t meet the definition. Only their symptoms do. I hope you and your fellow health providers are finding the help you need to recover from the psychological trauma of those days.
Horrible … and beautiful … all skillfully crafted into a mere 213 words. I am not a ‘poetry person’, but nevertheless was deeply touched by your piece. Shining a light on the trauma healthcare workers suffered during the pandemic is not a selfish betrayal of our patients’ suffering, but a critical step to help preserve our own survival. I hope that your writing brings you peace. Thank you for your service.