En Garde!

They take their formal stance, their eyes giving away nothing,
Their eyes giving-a-way of something.......?
Their body's posture is poised into defence and attack,
The SWORD in one hand and a main gauche in the other.

They circle as if rehearsed...
The past insults are forgotten, only the blood is wanting,
and the tears are prepared,
May the lament of sorrow be an eternal echo of such tragedies....

The witnesses are like frozen empowered statues,
In-between worlds of the living and dead...
The Cry of the Raven whispers their names,

Painting by Lorraine Rigby. 2017

The Clash of the Blades sings in the Air.

The sword is thrust to the neck,
the parrying dagger glances-slides it away,
and countered with the sword to the stomach,
feet move quickly turning the body to the side,
the blade flies through the air, the shining sharp......
the blade that's parried swirls over the head,
to plummet down into the thigh
a quick step back to defend!
WITH a dagger close to the neck,
it springs with accuracy to the foe!
Darting backwards and swirls with ferocity and despair,
both the daggers end in their plot.

The frozen statues come to life,
As the two bodies slump,
blades drop......
          blood flows......
                  hands that gripped the tools of death long to hold life together.
                             but it is too late......

Blade, overcomes Blade!
Sorrow, overcomes Sorrow?

The Wrong of Others,
Can Not Be Replaced,
By our wrongs.