The next day he was born, still.
I know. It is backwards. There is nothing right about a child dying. Words often fail to capture our emotions. Either we cannot speak or there are no words. As a loving tribute to Zachariah, I share this poem.Twelve Years Unspoken Entering my favorite flower shop, Passing by teddy bears and blankets, I close my eyes, a prayer unspoken. “Three yellow roses and baby’s breath, please.” She says, “We have no baby’s breath.” Appropriate, I suppose, since neither did he. She offers other “little white flowers.” But it is baby’s breath I long to see. “Then just the roses.” Reading my credit card, she pauses,
“Oh, I didn’t recognize you.” “It’s OK,” I say. The reason I was there Hung in the air, Unspoken. “How have you been?” She quietly asks. I whisper through tears, “It’s a hard day.” Twelve years, unspoken My voice gives way. She shares, “I’m sorry.” Tenderly wrapping each rose, “Hang in there,” she says softly. It helps that she knows. I nod, Gratitude Unspoken. I walk away. In my empty arms rest The yellow roses With no baby’s breath. My heart, broken, Holding love, unspoken.
Nancy Berns February 1, 2013