The Surgeon
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In the crumbling city, a hospital stood
Its walls made from holes, its floors laid in blood
He was there on the table, a man in distress
A bullet hole wound blown in his chest
So we set to work then, my colleague and I
As barrel bombs balled and rolled through the sky
And then in the door burst six men at my back
With knives and machine guns and uniforms black
My legs shook with fear and blood ran from my head
"Don't say a word now," my colleague said
Was then that I knew the man under my knife
Was a young ISIS fighter clinging to life
"The surgeon must work now," my colleague said
"For if he is disturbed then your friend will be dead"
Their eyes burned down on me like beams of a sun
But I kept my hands steady till my job was done
Thank God that my arms had been hidden in gold
Thank God for my mask and thank God for my scrubs
Thank God they did not know that under my vest
There was an old cross on a white chest
And the fighter who'd lain there under my knife
Would never know just who had saved his life
And when people ask me if I feel shame
I answer them, "No, I'd do it again"
For life it is precious and life it is rare
And may my arms always be able to bear
From Darfur to Gaza and in every land
In crumbling cities, hospitals stand