Blades

By Li Fang



Once made for murders,

Looking to slide these edges.

Gracefully

In between those hidden rib cages.

Deeper and deeper

Until blood is drawn from the well,

For all those who are thirty for a drink.



Once armed onto warriors

Listening to the sound,

Of limbs and heads,

Jumping eagerly onto the field.

Hands still holding onto their last aggressions,

Faces still frozen in disbelieving expressions.



Now retires in my hands,

Caressed by my palms.

The blade reflecting my own face,

Swinging freely without a care.

Shattering air,

Whispering songs.