At the Reservoir

at the reservoir
where they'd pulled her lifeless son
from the cold water

where searchers combed woods
and ate 21 pizzas
from noon to midnight

she'd had a request:
Please. No questions. We need peace,
non-tearfully asked

He was autistic,
she whispered to the reporters.
He thought he could swim. 

Where were you? they asked. 
Please. No questions. We need peace.
Something was missing:

That wail that escapes
from the dark depths of a soul
from one who'd held hope.