Zachary Samuel
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 . . .
Zachary’s Time
Born silent
and still, breath was
breathed into him, and he
breathed by himself, but stayed
a beloved infant, and never
opened his eyes.
~ ~ ~
When he came
home, fragile and tiny,
forty amazing and kind ladies
gave me a baby shower. The church
basement filled with gifts and chatter as they
passed around my new baby like a toy, lap to lap,
exclaiming over his unmoving smallness, and stroking his
impossibly tiny unfinished head, gazing upon his incomplete,
ever-closed eyes, delicate little mouth; his dainty fingers;
chuckling in motherly ways over his bit of soft black
hair sticking straight up. They gave me
unbelieving support
that day.
~ ~ ~
Our precious Zachy
was given much longer here with us, than
we could have dreamed. Lying quietly, humming
his little sound, and smiling when his cheeks
were stroked, he could not hear, see,
move, or eat by mouth. We knew
perhaps we had been blessed
with an angel unaware
dwelling in our
midst.
~ ~ ~
But nearly four
long years later, when his earthly
life ended, as the ladies all knew it would,
only one came to the funeral. It was just as well.
Only we who knew and loved him belonged
there, sitting surrounded by
his memories.
~ ~ ~
I asked for his little
blue coffin to be opened,
and through swelling hearts, and
dripping tears, we lovingly watched his
silky black hair blowing gently in the warm August
breeze one more time, his eyes still ever-closed; his little
round-cheeked face serene as always. It seemed he
could have been still with us - peacefully
enjoying a nap, perhaps. It seemed
impossible that I could not pick
him up and hug him.
~ ~ ~
We lived a long and poignant life deeply
in those few quiet minutes
~ ~ ~
So hard, so hard,
closing the lid for the last time,
sending his sweet little face, our dear
little boy into the dark shell of
the earth like a pearl
in a jewel box,
cradled in
silk and velvet.
Never again will a warm
August wind feel the same to me.
(C) 1986 and 2000 Rosemary J. Gwaltney Poems and Photographs All rights reserved.
This is my precious Zachy when he was sixteen months old.
My baby was born with an occipital encephalocele -
his brain was formed outside of his skull, and
incompletely so. He should not have lived
at all, nor been able to know anything.
But while he could not see or hear,
could not roll over, nor eat by
mouth; knew nothing but our
love, he knew the touch of
his mommy, and learned to
show great happiness at
any stroke to his
little cheeks.
Who could ask for
more from any child, than
sweet, daily, unconditional love.
And though he continually
forgot to breathe, God
gave me nearly
four years.
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