I read about the wound-dresser,
Counting limbs lost, holes in chests,
Heads crushed, summoning death merciful
Without reference I cannot comprehend
So I must invent a scene worthy of pity
Blood and gore and grime and darkness
Draw revulsion but trigger no compassion
Then I see, behind the verse,
Tears of families divided by death too soon
And I choke on the air around words too heavy
T. Weeks
(A response to “The Wound-Dresser”)
Life Immense 