The Forest Of Nightmares

‘You’re going home, ’ we told them ‘Line up quickly. You’re going to see your families. First, we’ll give you a meal, Then a ration of bread and three herrings To eat on the journey. See: here’s your guard of honour And a military band To play you onto the trains! ’ At Gnezdovo we searched them Stole their money. We bussed them in groups of twenty Into the forest Gagged, their arms tied at their backs. The pines wore a dusting of snow The sun was jaundiced. The pit was already dug. We led them, six at a time To kneel at the mouth of their grave. To look on the layer of bodies Sandwiched heel to toe. Crack! A shot through the head A boot in the back And the thud as they tumbled over Dead meat, to be trampled flat, Spread out in the pit like dung. Tiny shards of frost Shimmered like glass in the cold The witnessing pines were mute The ferns turned a blind eye.