Bittersweet, Like Blood

His fresh blood stains my hands.
I look at them, my hands,
Which not so long ago were
Caressing a woman's hair,
But have just driven a sword
Through a man's chest.

He still lies beneath me.,
The hilt of my weapon
Glinting in the sunlight.
Its a beautiful day,
Not a cloud in sight
And the sun is beating down.

A gorgeous day for a battle.

I reach down and clench the hilt
Within my bloodied hand.
I pull and the blade emerges,
Also stained red from the first kill,
And thirsty for more.

I look around at my comrades
Who await my signal to advance;
And at the enemy, who just lost
A good man in a two-man duel.

I raise my sword towards the merciless sun,
Open my mouth and let my voice
Rip through the hot air.
Immediately a chorus of voices join me
And we charge toward our foe,
Who let rip their own battle cry
And charge to meet us.

The distance grows smaller,
In a matter of paces
I shall release my wrath on them;
Let my sword pierce their hearts
As their words have pierced mine.

And then we are connected.
Blades clash in the ultimate battle
For life and justice.
My sword swings, parries,
Stops, clashes against the shield of one
Before striking at the neck of another.

People fall from both sides;
Neither is good or bad in war.
The hilt stays firm and sure in my hand,
The blade cuts through a man's leg
And another's arm
Before diving into both of their chests.

In the end, those of us who are left
Stand and gaze over the wreckage.
The victory is bittersweet on the tongue,
Like blood, but it is a victory all the same.

It was a gorgeous day for a battle.