The Medic doesn’t heal you,
The Medic doesn’t stay with you.
He is like a comma or a semicolon
In the middle of a sentence;
He’s there just long enough to give you pause.
Down the road is healing, and he may take you there
By road or stream or air,
He won’t stay with you,
But not because he doesn’t care,
He just doesn’t have TIME.
On the ground he looks at you,
Sees your wound, your blood, your guts,
And then he either kisses you with life,
Or leaves you there to Death.
Only long after does he cry or laugh
Having seen you die or live.
The Medic sees you cry, but can’t afford to care then –
Beyond just another wound or cut.
He’s on to the next one, and the next one,
And the next.
Until Peace comes to save him,
Stick a needle in his eye!