A Saw-Doctor's Diary

Easter Monday:
My duty, to save a soldier from death
By bringing him near it.
My friend, the sharp singing steel
Lately born of a Sheffield mill
No darker or satanic than anywhere else,
Come to visit the angelus bell on the patient.
He may flinch, but I cannot.

Shrove Tuesday:
Come I up the stairs with heavy tread,
Bitterness of relief brought to bear
On a victim of industrial accident,
Cruel deliverer of kind release.
I see the brandy bottle pitched close by,
My staunchest ally in the fight
To keep mind and body as one.

Ash Wednesday:
The pit of burning lead brings forth
Poor offerings for my knife and me.
How should I live, without the gift
Of others’ sacrifice,
Even as I offer my services?
No longer the “Leech” in industrial times,
Yet the poor I always have with me.

Maundy Thursday:
Preparation for communion,
Cup and platter brought forth from church:
Time for lesser sacrifices made earlier.
The gardener who fell from the apple-tree
Crushed an arm, wincing with blood and pain.
Calmly unfolding the black leather case,
Merciful sun falling on the point.

Good Friday:
My last day before retiring,
Ready for long afternoons by the fire
Roasting chestnuts in winter:
Time to beat my ploughshare into a sword,
That sharpness the release for many a member
As I pick up the coal, release tired embers.