Wounds

Can we bandage and bathe my comrade?
His wounds are advertised, all over his body.
The bones are blasted, beaten and he is bankrupt,
So horrifying is his condition, that I feel for him.
The climate of this planet has changed
And he has changed like a corpse.
Can we dress his combat injuries of blood?
He fought for ten people, and ten commandments
Were followed, with the idea of striking rich.
My comrade is skilled in terror,
And I am adept at the wound.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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