A woman who works for Médecins Sans Frontiéres
tells me how she (and others) battle on
despite the constant setbacks.
She says it can take a day sometimes
to travel twenty miles, on sand or mud.
They know supplies may not arrive on time
but every moment's precious
such are patients' needs.
She says that people die quite often,
after treating them for weeks or months,
as if such tragedies came with the job.
So these heroes struggle on, despite the danger
from terrorists or robbers, despite the heat
or the risk of falling sick themselves.
They know the problems they face are overwhelming
and may get worse with over-population,
but perhaps they realise too
that all anyone can do
against such odds is fight, yes,
fight the good fight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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