Causality

The grass lies trampled in the evening sun;
the light is faintly reddish. On the fields
the bodies and the arms, like driftwood tossed
upon an alien shore, have come to rest;
the world's grown silent. Here before my tent
there's still the trestle table; six hours back
we sat here parleying about the queen -
a kingly ransom, she - to no avail,
there being too much poison in our hearts,
too little light in any of our minds...
She's dead now. When the talks proved of no use
she ran a dagger through her chest, dry-eyed,
and smiled a bitter smile - this way at least
no one might lay unwanted hands on her
who formerly could ward off any foe
by looking only, fairer than the stars,
our constant sun. Like dots before my eyes
black shapes drop to the field. The crows have come
and when the sun goes there'll be others, foul
scavengers to further desecrate
what used to be proud warriors, tall men
in shining armour, brawny-armed and strong,
last noble heirs of our long , glorious past –
They all lie slain, my queen among them. Oh,
if I could only drag myself along
and save at least her body from the dire
ignoble fate of being carcass meat -
but this wound won't stop bleeding, and my legs
are blocks of ice, my head is far too light -
soon darkness falls, and when an older sun
comes scaling the horizon it won't see
a single banner flying still, or hear
the talk of those who used to be our nation. Cold
beyond the reach of spring we all will stay,
misjudgement ended in complete decay.