Psalm for the Medics
            (Eastern Ghouta)

The road to paradise, an avalanche
                        of blood, swerves away
            from them.

They hear a breath,
                      launch their sirens
            through piled towers blinding dust,

shovel to concrete muffled moans—
                        O eyes heed—
            bodies snapped into silence—

Blow, mouth, into beaten lungs!
                       Even God had to light the clay
            with his frozen breath—

Hand, slap the new tender flesh—                         
                     Fingers, snatch a cry
            from the shivering umbilical cord.

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