My Mark

I've never met them,

These silent strangers.

They are to me but

A name on a stone -

Or no name at all,

Just a depression,

A mound of earth,

Unmarked.

They lived before me

In a younger world -

Real people sighing

Through life

Before I took on

Flesh and breath.

They're gone now -

Unremarked.

It doesn't seem fair.

They might never

Have existed at all -

For good or ill,

They came to rest here,

On this windy hill -

Forlorn,

Forgotten.

I cannot know them,

I who am living.

God alone has

Decided their fate.

I walk from the place

And leave them behind.

I must make a mark

Not written on stone.

© 2009 by Janalyn Voigt