The cold steel reflects the bright light,
Sharp-edged and ready to kill.
A long well made killing machine,
In the hands of one sent to fight.
Bodies flung over the ground
Like coins dropped from a purse.
Sleeping peacefully away from
The violence all about them.
A step away an injured fighter
Cries out to his comrades.
Yet the enemy, to whom he has
Done no wrong, shows no mercy.
Yet these shouts from hoarse throats,
Will not wake the fallen.
No matter the strength of their voices
The fallen cannot be stirred.
The battle is won and it is finished,
The elevated soil diets say.
Yet despite winning what have they gained,
Despite many deaths of their own.
Above in the sky a circle of black birds orbit,
The site of this unkempt grave.
For surely in this atrocious affair,
The raven have come out top.