First Aid

Blood stained on their clothes.

They are lying on the field,

under the burning rays of sun at noon.

Check for unresponsiveness,

put the victims in the shade,

use the improvised stretchers,

cover the wound with clean dressing.

Rescuing them, using whatever we learned.

The mock accident seemed to be true.

 

`

Mama and Papa both said,

“It’s practical to join these kind of activities,

Accidents happen, anywhere, anytime.

Wounds and loss of blood

should be treated immediately

as life can be lost in the blink of an eye.”

`

 

Right as they were,

I experienced pain

and accidents of strange kinds.

Sometimes physical,

but mostly emotional.

Too bad that was not included

in my training for survival.

`

 

They are not here to instruct me,

to say what is practical,

or detect things that needed urgent actions.

I’m injured,

black-and-blue and seemed out air.

`

 

Today, I could not even use my first aid

In treating my own wounds,

In times when I feel that I was losing my life.

Seems that no one is here,

then I wish that they were here-

To give me

my first aid.

 

Tags: first aid, narrative poem, poetry, shyne