Fight as Fuel

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.