Your tombstone stands among the rest,
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chisled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care.
It is too late to mourn.
You didn't 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 and visit you.
~~ <> @ <> ~~
A Quote from: How Deep Our Roots
By Linda Pendleton
Our ancestors, yours and mine, are not dead people--just a name and date--they are very much alive and still as vital as they ever were. And they will not be forgotten, because there is no way they can be. They are ingrained within us, whether we recognize it or not.
And for those not interested in who came before, it matters not. Everyone who has lived upon this Planet Earth leaves a mark. No matter how large or small, and someone, somewhere, notices.
~> @ <~
Jesus loves me, this I know . . .