Of Loss
INDEX:
The Children's Christmas
O Pearl of Mine
End of the Pier
Sarah Joy
Her Kidnapping
Circling Vultures
Without Her
While She's Leaving
On Visiting My Baby's Grave
Morning's Time
Remembering Joshua
Zachary Samuel
Lost Hopes
Parting
* * * *
Good-bye my darlings, it won't be long before we're together again.
In Heaven, God will reunite us forever, where there is no sorrow, and no crying...
nor any tears there, nor any dying.
~ ~ ~
It was our choice, in love, to build our family through
adoption. Many of our children were healthy. But some were dying, or expected to die,
from one cause or another. These were precious children whom others were too
afraid to love; who needed a family perhaps more than any. Through a full
three decades of parenting, one child after another, we have loved.The
bonds of our love for each other grew extraordinarily deep,
child by child. The griefs of earthly partings have been
overwhelming; and only God's love and promises
of Heaven have carried us all through.
For we have not lost forever.
We have laid up treasures in Heaven.
~ ~ ~
* * * *
The Children's Christmas
The children’s Christmas is simple and bright
They sing the music, they laugh in the light
Sparkling colors are a magical spell
Their instant joy flows bubbling and well.
~ ~ ~
But round that tree I see a space
Beside the table an empty place
A voice is missing, a form of grace
The sweetness of a little lost face.
~ ~ ~
A vacuum was left by the child who’s gone
Though all seems right, something’s terribly wrong
I’d give up my Christmas and gaity fine
To clasp that small hand again in mine.
(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
O Pearl of Mine
Like a fairy you came waving your magic wand
Miniature girl curled lightly in my arm
Your delicate tiny hands plying the air
A fairy-dusted dream to calm my storms of grief . . .
~ ~ ~
You were the one who rang peals of giggles like bells
Six years of laughter, six years of tenderness.
O shining jewel of my soul riding waves of purity
Bubbly girl ringing joy warming my heart beyond belief . . .
~ ~ ~
A few souls have reached out, touching mine
Deep inside where I could feel them
But wild wind and waves carried them away
When I wasn’t finished knowing them yet
Like you, my daughter Sheena Rose
Leaving only floating fragrant memories
Like the fairy tales of my childhood
~ ~ ~
Precious fingers caressing my face - a legacy
Sweet breath against my cheek tenderly
Long lashes fluttering a gentle memory
“Want a butterfly kiss, mommy?” high voice chiming
Chanting our poetry together - you loved the rhyming
Shining face, tiny white teeth, deepest blue eyes
Sparkling - loving me! O joy! O surprise!
~ ~ ~
Those bell-giggles continually ringing
Long wispy light brown hair blowing
My passionate, lovely, mercurial child
Running so free - O little girl growing
~ ~ ~
How can we keep fairy dust from falling
From our enraptured eyes?
How can we keep our fairy tales
From losing their magic disguise ?
~ ~ ~
Yet if I had known you couldn’t stay
I still would have called O come anyway!
Crawl through my heart’s wall, hold my hand
Stay, dear, as long as you possibly can
Do tell me your stories, let me know thine;
O come get to know me, let me tell you mine
~ ~ ~
In our lives that are made of
Such small fragile chapters
We shared the richness
Of your splendid laughter
And our fairy tales will linger
Sweetly ever after
(C) 1999 Rosemary J. Gwaltney and Dale W. Gwaltney
* * *
End of the Pier
Beautiful son, dreamer
of dreams, creator of laughter and
sparkling eyes, you wrapped your lifetime
in a ball of light and fell slowly past my tender sight
~ ~ ~
Travis Andrew, dying like a roaring sunset over
a summer ocean I watched you glow your
last fall colors, and fade as quietly as
a shadow at dusk. In those last
four months your life condensed,
entire, complete; your eight years shone out
as an oil lamp on a winter evening soft and sweet
~ ~ ~
Those last hundred nights we knew together the
cold hiss of oxygen, the abrupt clamor of machinery, and my
hand stroking the warmth of your velvet forehead while I memorized
your dark long-lashed, wearied eyes, as you neared the port,
struggling through a lifetime career of drawing each
breath toward the end of the pier
of a childhood cut
short.
(C) 1997 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Sarah Joy
Sarah Joy, your eyes of blue
shining true;
were mirrors of your gentle mind,
and I find
your bubbly ways will never leave,
e’en though my heart will ever grieve;
for little girl, my soul knew much
of angels’ songs within your touch.
~ ~ ~
Through stretching empty years,
too broken for e’en tears,
the memory of your brilliant smile
no bitter year could e’er defile.
~ ~ ~
Could any glittering Christmas tree
mean candle glow compared with thee?
Could any snowfall sparkling bright
give faintest joy as you gave light?
~ ~ ~
Little daughter, Sarah Joy,
you shone on me.
All my life, oh glorious
you’ll ever be.
(C) 1997 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Her Kidnapping
Suddenly
In the vulnerable patience
Of that unsuspecting morning
Sheena Rose's voice was silenced.
~ ~ ~
A great vile vulture, stretching out
Piercing talons - razor beak
Devoured my daughter
Six years old - yet wet-winged and tender
Dew-damp and dear.
~ ~ ~
Instantly annihilating my pearl called trust,
Unzipping my sanity, spilling me into a gutter
Of frozen time staring stunned.
~ ~ ~
Fine embroidery of my life unraveled.
Vision of her little form still fresh in my arms; my
Yearning memory still echoed with her high, sweet song.
~ ~ ~
Suddenly
In the horror of that grimmest quiet morning
My carousel of innocence and joy
Forever silenced.
(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Circling Vultures
And in the eerie stillness of midnight
I lift my head, hair standing on my neck, abruptly
Hearing the echoing roar of approaching thunder
Galloping in on banks of rolling purple
A thousand horses in a suicide race
Across a clearing black with terror
Muddying the heavens with their hooves
~ ~ ~
And on the peak of the hill
Where dry field grasses jab at the sky
A wolf howls at three circling vultures
(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Without Her
I’ve a broken part deep where my dreams still sleep
Hearkening to keen visions I’ll always keep
~ ~ ~
Where have you gone little daughter so dear
Such a void where you nestled against my heart here
~ ~ ~
A huge hollow hangs where our love was entwined
In this kingdom of loneliness inside my mind
~ ~ ~
I dare not to love any child e’er again
For I am without, and I’ve naught left but pain
~ ~ ~
The chasm resounds yet against that day
I still see your eyes when you went away
~ ~ ~
Those broken bewildered blue pools of tears
And my vision will haunt me through all my years
(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
While She's Leaving
This night is a stagnant stone dungeon
Caged in bars of oppression.
My sleep was savaged by the sniper of her illness.
Old familiar enemy mocking from another past;
I can hear its laughter in her desperate coughing;
Derisively hacking "Ha! Ha! Ha!"
~ ~ ~
This gasping darkness shakes me to my knees
Squeezing my heart;
Pressing against my bones until they hang dry.
A helpless impotence hollows my spirit
Filling my veins with ice.
Blowing in winds of dread, I feel my empty bones dangling,
Clacking on the frozen 3 a.m. clothesline.
~ ~ ~
My weary eyes watch silently
While death's looming grim shape
Stands at the bench. Its huge relentless hands endlessly
Pounding - pounding - forcing shape to the
Branding iron that sizzles my seared flesh
With a scorched, smoking wound reading FEAR.
(C) 1997 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
On Visiting My Baby's Grave
No words to say; no words to say;
I visited her little grave today.
~ ~ ~
A stone in the grass so square and dry,
Whispers her name to a frigid sky.
~ ~ ~
My heart’s desire lies still, lies deep,
So dear and small in a dreamless sleep.
~ ~ ~
I come away; I come away;
Chilled and alone with no words to say.
(C) 1999 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Morning's Time
On that glorious day
Leaping clouds shouted - irrepressible
Against a teal-blue early spring sky.
Morning held an armful of joy in her apron
As she stood on the hillside, face to the sun.
~ ~
But Time raised his angry head -
Beating at her with a late blizzard wind,
Grabbing for her with gnarled branches.
~ ~
Morning
Squatted down on stubborn haunches,
Turning her back squarely to the whipping wind.
~ ~
Then I saw her tired feet slipping.
~ ~
Save me an hour!
I screamed, jumping to catch her;
Just one short hour
To keep in my hollow log, safe
Beneath a patchwork quilt of mosses,
So I can bring it out again
To sing to me of youthful love songs, and to
Waft delicate scents of spring blossoms over me,
On lonely frozen winter nights!
~ ~
But the wind raged higher, wilder -
And suddenly she lost her hold,
And blew away.
(C) 1999 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Remembering Joshua
Joshua
Timothy you
weren’t supposed to be
five years old and dead in the
morning. Christmas boy, you were the first
baby born with such heartrending problems, whom
I adopted, and loved with a passion; “he’s terminal” they said,
but I shrugged them off, not yet afraid to love; “he needs a mommy”,
my only thought; still pouring out my heart freely with adoration
on my gorgeous lovely baby boy.
~ ~ ~
Laughing child
filled with grace, patient
with your deepest woes and pain,
such an exquisite little face, chestnut curls
thick in my fingers, deep rich brown eyes sparkling
into mine; love, oh love so pure, you loved me so completely,
as I did you, ah, tender one cradled in my lap, I loved rocking your blues
away night and day for nearly six years. You were my precious tiny teacher,
and I learned to love as I had never loved before.
~ ~ ~
Now you will forever be suddenly
a feather in my arms, lying there, still and
cold, slim legs hanging, head heavy, with my tearless
shocked eyes dripping scalding sorrow on your auburn curls, my
veins paralyzed in ice water; my mother-heart frozen in grief. And even now
after all these years, when I write of you,
my tears
still
fall
(C) 1998 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Zachary Samuel
Bright memory of his silky hair
So black and shiny, lying there
Around the cheeks I used to kiss -
Brings anguish for the one I miss.
~ ~ ~
His smile was beaming - always there
For anyone who showed a care.
It brightened at the slightest touch;
I miss my baby, oh how much!
~ ~ ~
An empty crib: a lonely world . . .
His sheet, still formed the way he curled;
His lamp, his lamb, his humming sound . . .
His memories hover all around.
~ ~ ~
I’m glad I stroked his cheeks each day;
Snuggled him, for he’d smile that way. . .
I’m glad I patted him when he cried,
And rolled him to his other side.
~ ~ ~
His needs were few; his sorrows rare -
No other baby could compare . . .
My Zachy - nearly all of four -
Fulfilled my every hope, and more.
~ ~ ~
The loneliness of Zachy’s bed . . .
The dent where lay his little head
Still call to me, as I walk by -
And beg for tears I cannot cry . . .
(C) 1986 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Lost Hopes
The young wife wept
while her echoing barrenness slept.
Until, within her darkness,
she felt a movement swelling;
a feathered snowflake fluttering,
a wondrous motion welling.
The rising dance within her
acquired a name of joy,
bursting into a lilting song
of hope for a girl or boy.
But a savage wind came roaring,
muting the melody;
carrying its music away;
drowning the symphony.
Then the name became a thunder
through her spirit cold and dry,
a hunger insatiable in her heart,
howling against the sky.
A wailing for her lost motherhood,
lost sweetness, lost warmth, lost love -
rose into the black-ink billowed clouds
as she screamed to the heavens above.
And lost within her emptiness,
she still cries out that name;
The young wife weeps for her child now lost.
Life can never be the same.
For the baby ever sleeps.
And the young wife weeps.
(C) 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Parting
My ship set sail at sunset,
a dismal time to go; and alone,
I sailed into the dusk, in evening's somber
glow. I heard the engines revving as your plane
prepared its flight; we departed both together, though
separate that night. For you flew into the future as
I fell into the past; immersed in memories of
you, my sail set at half mast. My ship of
dreams slid silent toward horizon's
dimming shore, in that haunting
quiet night where I could
never see you more.
(C) 1997 Rosemary J. Gwaltney
* * *
Family photographs and poetry© 1997 - 2002 Rosemary J. Gwaltney All
rights reserved.
~ ~ ~
I'm currently working on a book tentatively titled "Gold Leaves in Winter"
telling our own very special children's tender stories.
Also, I have built a poetry memorial site for all
people who have been bereaved, in hopes of being
able to share care, and promote healing. It is
called "Coming Through the Fire". The URL:
https://www.angelfire.com/zine/bereaved
mountainrecluse@yahoo.com
Rev. 21:4 - "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes;
and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying,
neither shall there be any more pain..."
Job 1:21 - "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away;
blessed be the name of the Lord."
(King James Version of the Bible)
