Night In The A&E (Poetry)

A sprawling bloodless battleground
the injured loll on rigid chairs
with cellphones grafted to their ears
exchange resigned and closed-off stares

The staff soft-shuffle to and fro —
no urgency — they process through
the steady stream that bad luck brings
and treat in turn as trained to do

The hours drag — no drama prompts
a sudden rush or change of pace
though pressure’s low the wait is long
and tiredness shadows every face

Now close to midnight and the beep
of monitors above the talk
while trolleys wheel the wounded few
bumping past — too weak to walk

Despite the curtained cubicles
noise infiltrates its foreign sea
of voices — accents thick and strange
that ebb and flow incessantly

It is an island way offshore
survivors clinging to a rock
like casualties of life’s cold war
who sigh and mutter — dulled by shock

and longing for the road back home —
familiar walls — the shaded light
beside their bed and soothing sounds
to blot away this gruelling night