Christina A. Sharik


All day long, in sun or rain
they send them down the line –
pack them, wrap them, ease their pain
tell them they’ll be fine.

The line is moving, going fast
They have to get them on
if they tarry just a little bit
The soldiers might be “gone”.

And at the end they’re taken off
by others on the line –
re-packed, wrapped and made pain-free,
and told that they’ll be fine.

But there are some who don’t survive
the Conveyor Belt of War;
and these are taken by an Angel
who wishes she knew more
about Someone’s son or father,
and the way he was before.

Now back at the beginning
of this grim Conveyor Belt –
The Angel there is praying, and
wishing that she felt
just a little bit of something
something sad or real
anything to prove to her
that she remembers how to feel.

There were Angels at the beginning
and Angels at the end –
and some were in the middle
of War’s conveyor belt,
my friend.

Author’s Note: For the Nurses and Medical Personnel