Blood
Does blood bother you?
asked the nurse, exposing
the needle.
No I said and felt the tightening
of the tourniquet.
Yes, blood bothers me.
Blood spilled in darkness
by boy-men with spiteful blades,
washed away by a mother's tears.
Yes, blood bothers me.
Running crimson in dusty streets
and dirty scream-filled hospitals
as bombs rain down.
Yes, blood bothers me.
When blood and purity are mixed
to sanitise, cleanse, bleach,
and whitewash hate.
I stayed silent and I lied.
And yes, we both know
that I looked away.
Tim Fellows 2019
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
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