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 do 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
so 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 knew
that someday I would find this spot
and come to visit you.