Your tombstone stands among the rest
neglected and alone.
The name and dates are chiseled out
on polished, marbled stone.

The dash between I never knew.
Why is it that I mourn?
You did not know that I'd exist.
You died before I was born.

Yet within me are cells of you
in flesh, in blood, in bone.
My heart contracts and beats a pulse
that's not entirely my own.

Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
some 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.

Your tombstone stands among the rest
neglected and alone.
The name and dates are chiseled out
on polished, marbled stone.

The dash between I never knew.
Why is it that I mourn?
You did not know that I'd exist.
You died before I was born.

Yet within me are cells of you
in flesh, in blood, in bone.
My heart contracts and beats a pulse
that's not entirely my own.

Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
some 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.