I sit feet away from a baby girl
Who died about three months before I was born.
I wonder what she would have been like today.
Would we have been friends?
I sit yards away from an open tomb
That waits for its occupant to arrive today.
Whose partner has waited for nearly thirty three years
To meet his sweetheart again.
I wonder what that reunion would be like today.
Would seeing it comfort the broken hearts of those who lost
Mom, sister, or grandma today?
I scan the hundreds of worn and weathered headstones
Each of them representing a person
Each a person who was important to somebody
I wonder if those memories begin to also fade with time.
Will we all one day be forgotten?
I see flowers and trinkets
on or near many of the headstones
Only the most recent have such tokens
I wonder about those who leave such tokens.
Will their hearts ever be mended?
I realize that this place is for us; the living
Here we come to remember and to reflect
It’s not for them; the dead are not here
I wonder if they ever look down on their own graves.
Would they find our rituals strange and out of place?
I notice the walls that surround this place
Separating this place from the outside world
Allowing us to leave that world for a moment
To feel the peace and the quiet of this place
To reflect about what we are doing here
About the fact that we will one day die
I wonder about that day for me
Will I be scared?
I reflect on what is truly important
Those flowers and trinkets mean nothing to the dead
But the people who visit and those who now rest matter
I wonder who will one day visit my future grave.
Will they know I loved them enough?