Long Poem For Peace (PT8) I t is is cold, ice is every where the door on the little shed swings on its leather hinges the goats are all gone, nothing moves but the swing of the door in the house the hearth is cold the chimney moans the old photograph looks down in silence at the sunlight in the dust on the table dinner places are still set the circles of light trace the bullet holes in the roof and walls in the spring the rats will finish cleaning the bones it was just a short five day war it was over in five minutes this scene is alive the screams will reverberate forever in the cold air as the old man clings to the old woman the goats roasted well over the fire made from the fence for mother Russia all of you will be contacted each in you own day Now I will not rest until every grave is opened and every wretched lie is put before you written so you can make no mistake what foolish nonsense brings me to this path you will know me the great gray battl
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