Bloody Recollections

My hands are weary with age.
No longer do they clutch this sword with ease.
My body frail from years of toil.
…Battle, blood, enemy, fallen friends…
The images flash through my mind
With unbridled, vibrant fury.
I capture these into words
And before those gathered,
I recount the tale of the timeless battle.
“The lines are drawn, both sides ready
With swords unsheathed and sandals tightened.
Commands shouted, actions taken.
A well-oiled machine of war
Poised to strike upon the opposing ranks,
Marches forward at beckoned call.
Each step proclaims our certain death.
As we near our foe with vicious fervor,
My heart within my chest is hammering.
Two armies converge in bloody contact.
With blade in hand I plunge into the hordes,
Seeking for whom I may stab through.
But through the thick masses I see such a foe
As to kindle the fury and fan the rage.
A traitor of sorts, who ran for quick gain,
Faces me know to put up a fight.
Our swords they meet with CLASH and CLANG!
And minute by minute we wage the war.
With no strength left, and energy gone,
I submit myself to the victorious fiend.
But just as he lunges to pierce we straight through
My friend of old jumps in my stead.
Rather than my body cold and dead,
It is he, my friend who was killed this day.
I, with God-given vigor, did pick up my sword,
And finish the act of slaying the man,
Who took the life of a friend so dear.”

But here I am today, unable to stand,
Inflicted by memories that run so deep,
And plague my very soul.