Medieval Eyes

I breathe hard, wiping my face clean of sweat and blood
I set the point of my sword to the earth, ready by my hand
Looking about the field I see only the dead and the dying
Different countries – same ideals
I feel the tears roll down my cheeks as I begin to see my friends lying still
Life blood feeding the grass, soaked past saturation
Smoke and fire dot the field – showing the scavengers
Moving from body to body taking from the dead.
This war is far from over and only the dead see the end of it.
With a weary sigh I take up my sword, clean it, and set it in the scabbard
My feet have gotten heavy, even more so as I leave for home