A poem by Fisher kel Tath. "An old man emerged from the ditch, a creatureOf mud and wild autumn winds caperingLike a hare across a bouldered field, acrossAnd through the stillness of time unhingedThat sprawls patient and unexpectant in thePlace where battle lies spent, unmoving andNever again moving bodies strewn andDeath-twisted like lost languages trackingContorted glyphs on a barrow door, and heRead well the aftermath, the disarticulated scriptRent and dissolute the pillars of self toppledLike termite towers all spilled out round hisDancing feet, and he shouted in gleefulRevelation the truth he’d found, in theseRed-fleshed pronouncements - ‘There is peace!’He shrieked. ‘There is peace!’ and it wasNo difficult thing, where I sat in the saddleAbove salt-rimed horseflesh to lift my crossbo