You Relieved Yourself

The battle finished.  
Cold bodies on the ground.  

Some, on the edge of extinction,  
still moan.  

Who won.  
Who lost.  

Nursing your bleeding wound,  
you don’t give a damn.  

The darkness—  
cold, unforgiving.  

Yet the morning didn’t spare.  
It killed.  
And let the night  
bear the burden of ghosts.  

With a numbed mind  
you tried to think:  

How many did you kill.  
Wasn’t there a time  
when everyone said killing  
was immoral,  
unthinkable.  

Now you see:  
morality, humanity, religion—  

all packs of condoms.  
Purchase.  
Use.  
Discard.  

In that darkness,  
burdened by the absence  
of everything you were asked to believe in,  

you stood  
with unsteady gait,  
lowered the zipper,  
and relieved yourself.