Over The Wall
Whether real or imagined I saw a painting
Where a war-scene of desperate measures was seen –
A wall sealed the street off, about half the way down
With machine gun at ready and sand bags all round.
Behind it you could see soldiers running away
The last being boosted by the one who would stay
Perusing – some others yet to turn on the street
Pictured timing was perfect – his bullets they’d meet.
His escape not the issue – just rear-guard action
The lives of his comrades, one-for-many the sum.
When asked where I saw me of the men in the scene
‘The man boosting others, taking up the machine’.
Nobel gestures have place in our lives of today
But a twist makes it less than an excellent way.
Sometimes it is not others but us who needs aid
When we cover protectors, then an error we’ve made.
Work with doctor’s essential if health’s to return
But they’re doing the boosting; it’s our turn to run.
When it gets turned around, then the context is sad
It’s time for a team-change before things get real bad.
For the power at the top is to boost those beneath
And to cover their back-sides – give healing relief.
Liberated, we flee for our lives, then we rise –
Replace our redeemers, imitating their lives.
The task we’re engaged in is much bigger than us
A mistake if we think we should not make a fuss.
Power’s there to be passed down not up through the line
Collaboration when gone – is doc-changing time.
My reluctance to move on this matter is strange
I like peace in the valley as ‘home on the range’.
Even more I boost others though at a great cost
But to let this continue is everyone’s loss.
When our one tool’s a hammer, solutions are nails –
It seems we have answers for when anything fails.
But strengths are our weakness when we’re caught in this bind
For strength of perception renders us here quite blind.
Society says to look for strength deep within
But the problem of Eden was not just our sin.
The problem is our thinking that we’re self-contained –
With perceptions of others our health is maintained.
And so with reluctance I turn back to this chore –
Seeking team-mates to help me, my health to restore.
Now the thought that emerges, my joy to revive –
‘They’re big tough old doctors, they’re going to survive!’