the execution

the night of the executions



On the roof of his loft room, there was a half-open window
by climbing up on a chair, he could see over
the rim and eye
the camp for Russian prisoners of war.
on clear nights, especially when the moon was almost full
he was fascinated by the details and could see the upland
and the village bathed in blue and silver.
it was in the middle of a war,
the boy was five years old
and had been sent to a farm to be safe from nightly sirens
that had frightened him
it was on a night like this, he heard shots fired, many shoots
and when the shooting stopped, there was a deadly silence
in his pajamas, clutching a doll a Russian had given him
he walked towards the camp, the silence
 it was like no one
was allowed to speak.
at the entrance of the camp
and  a military policeman with
a with a shiny breastplate on his chest, took him by his hand
leading back to the farmhouse, where the farmer's wife stood,
she lifted him up, hugged him, and carried him back to bed
next morning, he was not sure if he had had a dream, but since
no one of the adults spoke and he didn't ask anyone
when in the forenoon, he walked up to the cam, despite being
warned not to go there, the camp was empty, a German soldiers
told him they had gone back to Russland