war pillow

A distant ancestor
devised a hammer,
against a mob of spirits.
My lineage
expects the danger and the damage;
eyeballing fractured bones nearby.
Destruction is my skin,
animal brains and marrow.
Though not prone to violence
I waged battles,
piled bodies to the walls.
The lights have indeed gone out.
My instinct for death is my situation.
I could be seriously harmed
to postulate my nature
and give birth to raw life
expelled from the womb
my infant meets the world and reacts.
Who loves tranquility?
Soldiers gladly spill their blood,
disgusted by the government;
that ravages and robs rivers-
shoot editors and hangs predators..