Research Notes – The Great War (13) The Injured


Meg has been doing some amazing WWI research for her book. This piece particularly struck me along with a video about a woman who aided those mutilated and disfigured in the trenches.

Meg Sorick, Author/Artist

My current work in progress is a historical novel set partly during the years of World War One. In order to write the time accurately, I’ve been reading and researching the subject extensively.

The casualty figures for this four year-long conflict are staggering. Forty million casualties, 15-19 million of which were deaths, 23 million wounded. But numbers, when they get too large tend to lose their meaning. When you put a face (literally) to the fallen, the injured, the mutilated, it has far more impact. These disfigurements to the face were especially cruel, changing the single most important way humans physically identify themselves; the way we recognize ourselves in the mirror and the way we present ourselves to the outside world.

The surgeons did their best to patch up these horrible wounds, but techniques were primitive and faces and bodies could never be returned to normal. The following short video…

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Three Line Tales/ #TaleWeavers / #MusicChallenge: Poem – Bop – “Doorway to Home” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also, thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and his Tale Weaver Prompt of “time’s up,” literally or figuratively in a piece 500 to 600 words at most. A triple combo for this one with MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Music Challenge and the song “Hope in the Air (I Speak Because I Can)” by Laura Marling.


Credit: Sonya


Hope in the Air (I Speak Because I Can” by Laura Marling


Time’s a limited but precious present,

So, never squander it so hesitant.

Don’t be an old man with words lost to the sea,

Say what you truly mean, set your soul free.

Don’t let the end come your wasp’s tongue too numb,

Don’t fear my next visit, your mind and ears dumb.

Learn — never forget to hope against hope;

Spend not life somber, your last line’s aren’t wrote.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

Men may fall graceless when easily provoked,

They’ll stumble, choke as life’s gift is revoked.

Death’s the end for all, one day the reaper;

Face me not with fear, I’m your soul’s keeper.

I come not with curses for those who’ve kept faith,

I’m no doom-ridden creeper nor dark wraith.

So, fear me not, live your life full and whole;

Shrink not — fear your evil deeds, those woeful.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

So, don’t give in; pull your boots up, hold —

Onto your candle, its flame’s spreading bold.

I can’t save a soul, with good deeds or gold,

I can share His light; it burns but He’ll mold —

You up-right when your wax melts, and you wane.

Before it’s done believe, gleam bright with God’s hope.

Hope’s Air and Water; your doorway to Home.

******


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