All I Can Do Is P

What about the woman a nurse, her profession her dream, her talent in her delusion that youth did bring she entered service to help the maimed now she cannot sleep at night the horror of the unforgettable sights the soldier who at his demand his hand she held napalm still smoldered the meat fell off into her palm as she swallowed her bile and in his eyes did gaze giving him comfort while her world crumbled away She cannot undo the stench the sights the gore the touch the sounds of boys called men who all around begged this mere woman to save their souls to help them remember that they have been loved the touch of a woman the gentleness held as they lay dying with her at their side She smiled so sweetly and to their faces using comforting words she lied to calm them and dress them her mind quietly firmly unfurling the woof and the web all coming apart deep down, within Again, and again she wrote their last letters 56