Christina A. Sharik

HIS DEATH

He only felt a sting
a sensation of strange pain
an odd thing
He could not speak
He could not yell
Bloody hell
He tried to wave his shattered arm
then he was there –
the medic.
He thought:

I can relax.
I’m in his care.
He puts a cigarette between
my lips
looks me over
I feel him searching
for wounds
He does something
to my throat –

It’s all right, man

I start to float –

Don’t go – be strong
Come on, man
the chopper’s coming

I see his eyes………

and hear my mother humming.

Author’s Note: For Medics/Docs and Medical Personnel