Dear Ancestor

Your tombstone stands among the rest;
neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled
out on polished, marbled stone.

It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
You died years before I was born.

Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts
and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.

The place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among
the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.

I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would
find your grave,
And come to visit you.

~ Author Unknown ~