Wounded Soldiers

A strory in Progress a long read: Copy write: Poet

They are the wounded soldiers. They march along going here, going there, looking for some sort of healing... some sort of help. They call out for the help hoping one day to find someone that will lend a hand. 
Oh, there are helpers out there. Many fallen ones. We see them flee with their own wounds, caught up in the cross fire of our regime. Tears fall from the face because we do not wish for such pain to come from our troops.
"Watch out," We plead. "Don't come too close." 
But, because of their own need to 'help' they proceed onto the battle field. There are thousands of wounded soldiers about. We try very hard to protect them all. We try to sheild them from the world. 
We also try to sheild the world from them. Their words and actions can be so harmful. We hate to see anyone get hurt. We try our hardest to protect. It is an unending battle. 
What to do? So, we pack up our wounded. Put them all away. Put them some place safe. Away from the artillary that we fear will soon come to engage us. Protect them from any one.. any thing that comes close..
Yet it is us... who calls for aid. How can that be? 
We are the wounded soldiers in a never ending war for peace.

So, as soldiers. We do take up shields and swords. Many of us battle every day.. just to stay alive. We do stand in awareness of every little thing. Sometimes the barage of artillary is great. Friendly fire sometimes comes too. It is a sad sad site. We watch the others who 



come to the battle field wonder, watch and wait. What is to come? Ready to aid.. ready to defend... even those who come too close. We don't wish them to get caught up in the cross fire. We also wait to see if they come armed themselves. 
Oh, the woes.. 
Stood on the field and watched another man go down.. and another. It is sad to see the other side suffer loss. It really does hurt. Even if it is out of defense.. we grieve. We see little ones being caught up too. With their parents there.. and we do not know what to do. 
"Please take them to safety." But, they stand and fire away. What to do? 
We plead again to the enemy... or at least we try.. place down your sword. Please. Just talk to us. 
We laugh a cinical laugh.. as they say they offer an olive branch. 
"Oh is that what that is?" As they stick a finely sharpened tounge in our face. 
Back the troops up.. they aren't willing to help. They aren't willing to listen to our suggestions of ways to help as well.
Take up the troops.. run away.. hide away.. not without shield.. but with strength and courage. We go on.....

The white flag of surrender comes out. Waving like some trickery is a foot. We wonder. Could this be true? Could this finally be the end of all this fighting? We watch. 
There are so many casualties. So many wounded. We call out, "Medic!"
We have to laugh sometimes when the barage of so called medics come with their 'tools of the trade'. "Take 3 pills, try some relaxation techniques, and distract." 
Ok.. we wonder... what kind of medicine is this? We are afraid that the medics are just clowns in Dr.'s suits. Not really experts at all. They better get back in their little mobile and twirl home before they get in the way of the onslought.
"But, it's our truce. Our olive branch. I know, it isn't what you want but, not all medics will come on this field you know."

What does that mean? Should we be impressed? We just look at them in disbelief. This is our medic?
One hands us a toy sword, a shield and a flashlight. "Ha!" We laugh. "What are we supposed to do with these?"

"Oh, they are to show that I am on your side."
Laughing harder still..
The war still rages on. We look all around. Where is that final victory? Some place far away?
We look in the distance as we hear all kinds of pleas for help. Yet, no one sees or hears them except us. They look at us and say, "I don't hear anything."
"Well what about these wounded?" We say... and they look.
"Where?" 

Blind are they. They do not see what the world has done... to the innocent... to the hope.. to the on going barage of battles that continue. 

Yet we march on... 
Keep on marching... protect the innocent... and hope... for light soon.