A LAMENT, FOR ONE TOO YOUNG
(A TRIBUTE TO OUR PSW's)
THEY ALSO SERVE
Lois
TODAY THE OLD GREY-GREEN SCUGOG LIES MIRROR STILL:
GREY ROCKS, GREEN BRUSH, WIND-SCRUBBED TREE SKELETONS
REFLECTING WITH SCARCE A RIPPLE.
Downstream, a young fisherman casts a careful line.
BUT YESTERDAY, Monday, JUNE 13…
YESTERDAY at 8 am. a knock on my door,
—My door in a residence housing shadows of the past generation,
and my gentle PSW entered:
Grey, gaunt, yet smiling—"I've been up all night, searching—
Searching for the young boy I baby sit—
He slipped out in the storm last night. Sunday.
All night we've been searching, searching.
When I finish here, I'll be out again, searching."
With forced cheerfulness she went through her duties,
Missing not a beat, skipping none of the routine,
And then with a hug and a prayer she was out the door—
To continue searching, searching.
All through the dark night they had searched
with strong helicopter searchlights lighting up the night,
prying into every bush and nook and cranny. That was YESTERDAY: Monday.
YESTERDAY: with DAYLIGHT, AND HELICOPTERS THUNDERING OVERHEAD,
BACK AND FORTH, UP AND DOWN THE RIVER,
SO LOW THE LEAVES OF TREES OVERHEAD BRUSHED MY HAIR.
ON THE RIVER,
BLACK POLICE BOATS CHURNED THE WATERS
AS THEY SCANNED THE BANKS for a trace.
UPSTREAM, THEN MOVING DOWNSTREAM
UNDERWATER POLICE WERE DRAGGING THE RIVER.
SEARCHING.
ON SHORE SOLEMN POLICE THRASHED THE BUSHES,
SEARCHING. For a scrap of clothing, anything.
AS NOON APPROACHED, JOINED BY A GROWING THRONG
OF CARING NEIGHBORS, SOBER FACES, SOME WET WITH TEARS,
ALL WITH CANES, WALKING STICKS,
ANYTHING THAT MIGHT STIR UP A CLUE
ALONG THE WATER'S EDGE,
SEARCHING.
ALL ALONG THE OLD RIVER, AN ENTIRE HEARTBROKEN COMMUNITY
SEARCHING
FOR A NEIGHBOR'S MISSING LITTLE BOY.
Cars, TV trucks, ambulances, fire trucks, flashing lights—vehicles of all sorts jamming every parking space.
With watchers lining the river banks.
THEN 3:30pm. Somehow the word spread,
All eyes were glued to i-Phones and Face Book
As the Operations Commander grimly reported
The lost had been found…
Silently the crowd slipped away
As the river gave up a lost treasure.
Today: the next morning at 7:30 am.
a knock on the door and there my PSW stood,
Tall, with a weary, wan smile, all professional.
"How is it?" I asked.
"Sad", she replied. And got to work. Serving a generation that has been.
A COMMUNITY CAME TOGETHER—