The early blue of precious dawn,
Says darkest night is almost gone.
I wring the ache from limbs & yawn.
Day casts light on shades of blood;
Demarking time the wounds did flood.
Wet still red; Dry brown as mud.
Proof abounds of fatal fight,
Of darkest deeds in dead of night,
Buzzards circle & crows alight.
In field & memory corpses strewn.
Events recalled are cause to swoon.
Horrors evidence of Death’s spry tune.
I alone am left alive,
My guilt cut by a choice to thrive.
The grist of this day a perpetual drive.