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Yet [*/+/^] : 27.225 MHz, Some Final Measures; At Porokhov Station, On The Irinovskaya Railroad
Shooters, as each of you holsters his smoking gun,
you are not even aware of what you have just done:
that you have just murdered Metropolitan Benjamin.
But Comrade Lenin---whose shriveled soul is as cold
as the slick ice slabs that cross the Siberian
wasteland---ordered that you should not be told
whose blood you have shed across the shattered rocks
that lay upon and beside the railroad's right of way:
a bishop, priest and pastor, Christian---Orthodox;
lest any reluctance on your collective part
might have skewed the Party's plan astray;
reluctance of compassion lingering in a human heart.
J-Called
[*/+/^]
