Careful are they who tend the sick
On battlefields where blood runs thick
Midst the slaughter and the shells
Queasy stomach that barely quells.
Brave are they that do this work
From their duty they won’t shirk
Mending bodies that are broken
Quiet encouraging words are spoken.
They fight their wars on blood-soaked table
Making wounded soldiers stable
Losing some they just can’t save
Haunting faces to their grave.
Theirs, a different kind of war
Filled with horror just as raw
Oft, while soldiers rest the gun
They’re still trying to save someone.
For war’s a tragic way to go
Those who’ve fought and lived will know
And yet there never seems to be
A day that ended, gunshot free.
©Joe Wilson – They also serve…2015