Your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone.
The name and the 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.