DEAR ANCESTOR OF
MINE
Your tombstone stands among the rest,
quite neglected
and so alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
on well-polished, marbled
stone.
It reaches out to all who care,
now
it is to late to mourn.
You did not know I would exist,
for you died
before I was born.
Yet each of us are bits of
you,
in flesh, in blood and in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a
pulse,
that is entirely not our own.
Dear
ancestor, the place you filled
oh so many, many 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 even
knew,
that someday I would find this spot,
and come to visit
you.
(Author Unknown)
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Web Page Created by Everett D. Spencer
Updated on
March 12, 1999
