Dear Ancestor

Your tombstone stands among the rest,
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiselled 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.

Mary Hamilton's grave