a cannibal's confusion

Beneath the ancient cedar's shade, where tribal fires once blazed, A warrior stands with heavy heart, his spirit sore amazed. He tastes the flesh of fallen foes, a ritual old and deep, Yet in his soul confusion grows, while sacred promises keep. The smoke of battle clears away, the victory chants subside, But in the quiet of the dawn, his troubled thoughts abide. He chews the meat of those he fought, of enemies now slain, And wonders at the truth he's sought, through pleasure mixed with pain. His ancestors taught this sacred rite, to honor those who fell, To take their strength into the night, their warrior spirits quell. But as he swallows bitter flesh, a question starts to form: Does this communion truly mesh with keeping honor warm? The blood that stains his weathered hands once flowed in living veins, The same red river through the lands, through joys and through pains. He sees himself in dead men's eyes, the same light fading fast, The same regret, the same goodbyes, as present blends with past. What separates the hunter from the prey he must consume? What difference in the rising sun, what change in evening's gloom? The enemy who fought so brave, with courage matching his, Now nourishes the very life