What Was

Distant drum beats a thousand cries over the hills
as I trace footprints to the past of bare men,
women and child
clothed with skin scorched by the sun
toiling against the harsh rays over cracked
ground, they sing-
tunes much like the calling of the wind with total harmony.
They sing, for protection against the demons whose blade we hold high.

Voices grow faint, yet they sing as one by one falls
tumbling over decapitated bodies strewn as dirt is to
ground
Shrills of pain muffled by cheers of triumph while
echoes resonates through pool of red gleaming water
I stand, defeated.