Dear Ancestor

Your tombstone stands among the rest
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished marble 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 and blood and bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.

Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred fifty years ago.
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder how you lived and loved
I wonder if you knew.
That someday I would find this spot
And come to visit you.

--Author Walter Butler Palmer

Dear Ancestor

Your tombstone stands among the rest
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished marble 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 and blood and bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.

Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred fifty years ago.
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder how you lived and loved
I wonder if you knew.
That someday I would find this spot
And come to visit you.

--Author Walter Butler Palmer