PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The sun barely kisses the sky,

And darkness still cloaks the land.

Figures move in the lightening shadows,

Their eyes still heavy with sleep.

They are the medical support volunteers,

Fixing supplies while  the town slumbers.

.

Then the gloom gives way to a hot day.

And daylight unveils devastated lands.

It was only a month before,
That this  rich valley was unspoilt.
The floods have dried, rains have ceased,

But tears still flow, hearts still bleed.

Under the bright merciless sun, 

Patient souls crowd the clinic fronts.

Years of outreach missions,

Would never toughen one's heart,

To the streams of faces needing help.

The lines seem forever. 

The lengthening shadows see the clinic end.
Clinicians sit spent inside the waiting vans.

But not the support group.

They rise before the sun to set up the clinic,
They help control the crowd in between,
They pack, clean-up, and leave last.

The team is here now, gone in a day or two,

Leaving a number of patients left unseen.

But time and supplies are not friends.

It counts not whether their deeds are remembered.

What matters is that each worker,
Was able to show and extend Christ’s love.