War Medic



The fractures to her fingers

were twist fractures,

she would shout,

her bones violently wrenched out,

he tied then gagged her,

her emotions would run,

she would never again see the morning sun,

as he broke her fingers one by one,

her spirit watched, helpless,

as she was driven insane,

and he had no other reason

except to cause her excruciating pain,

she hid in fear,

she was panicking for air,

her blood drained and flowed,

and her veins would explode,

she would gasp then shout,

for the last time,

before she would blackout,

she cried,

remained tied,

her spirit moved on, sad,

then she died.



War infuriated her,

but she wouldn’t say,

and the law made her stay,

this army medic

drew strength from sick-bay,

when young soldiers come to die,

she wanted to crawl in a hole and cry,

she felt like going out

and breaking someone’s leg

so she would have something

to occupy her time and mind,

she took some blame,

but felt all the shame,

but she couldn’t keep up with the countless dead,

and she could not get the images

of dead soldiers out of her head,

she rose from her chair,

and walked toward the door,

death she would fear

with unsteady legs,

then she fell to the floor.

© 2011 Frank Atanacio

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Comments 2 comments

Peggy W profile image

Peggy W 11 months ago from Houston, Texas

I can well imagine the duress that army medics routinely face. If she was the same person in the second piece...that was one sick sadist who tortured her until she expired. Sad to think that people like that exist.

Frank Atanacio profile image

Frank Atanacio 11 months ago from Shelton Author

thank you Peggy W for checking out this 5 year old poem..:)

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