DEAR
ANCESTOR
Your tombstone stands amoung 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 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 amoung 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.
THE ELDERS ARE PASSING
Our elders are passing, one by one
Surely gone forever, until there are none.
Their bountiful memories, their knowledge of the past,
Soon will be lost, and beyond our grasp.
The past is prologue, so delicate to retain,
Slipping slowly from our grasp, til nothing remains.
For our elders are passing, so sad but true,
And with them their memories, and all that they knew.
It's urgent for sure, to record each thought,
Of every family elder, so its not for naught.
So generations remember the beauteous past,
We'll retain that knowledge, and ensure it will last.
There'll be no better time, than that right now,
To begin your quest, or to renew your vow.
So locate your elders, and schedule that meeting,
In light of the fact, that time is so fleeting.