A Very Special Operation

A very special Operation

The splintered Elm once hung our swing,
but the leaves and the swing are gone.
The bricks, the blocks, the jagged concrete on the ground
was once our would-be home.
The windows are now blown open ,
lying jigsaw fragments  on the floor
and down the hall, past the door without a door,
a room without a roof...
that was our bedroom; that was our bed
where before we slept we laid to rest the day -
cried, laughed, loved , said what must be said
and dreamt away our fears .

The dirty muddy fabric in the yard, my childs best friend,
was Panda. Inseparable!
but now separated from its arm, its head, and sadly too,  my son.
Best friends forever ripped apart;
 time moved on and something precious slipped away.
And there he is!  that there ,
hunched over his memories by the body in the road,
that´s my little four year old man,
but the body and his memories now are naked, twisted,
frozen.
 Oh, and the broken body where he sits is my wife.
So he´s lost his  mother, his childhood and his best-friend-forever;
but kept his life.
I am inclined to think the price was set too high.

Perhaps if I could just find the swing…
I have looked for it. Everywhere.
But it´s not anywhere -
its not by the Elm
it´s not in our home
it´s not by the body in the road
it´s not by the boy hunched by the body in the road
and it´s getting dark.

One moment all was as it should have been;
The next all was as it is .
And the swing is nowhere !
                                    and  it´s getting dark.