You reach out to touch me and I flinch
Your hand is cold
It is 35 degrees celsius and you are shivering as you look at me through your shy feverish eyes
Your mother is crying for my help
But this is bigger than me
I have seen it all before
These unfortunate souls
I know were this is likely to end
Something so simple, yet so far out of my capability and resources
The infection is well on its way, you need strong antibiotics
Not a alcohol wipe like I can offer
Out here days from anywhere you have got nothing but flies that eats at your wound
Your mother squeeses my hand as I hand over all I can find in my first aid kit
Full of thanks for this new installed false sence of hope
Oh how I wish it wasn't so