Dear Ancestor: > Your tombstone stands among the rest; > neglected and alone. The name > and date are chiselled 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 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. > ~author unknown~