> Your tombstone stands among the
> 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 and 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.
> Dear Ancestor, 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 this spot,
> And come to visit you.
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