Sometimes it seems like I am a ghost
Just a vague being.. … a nameless face walking along the border of a black iron fence of a graveyard.
I look out to see the sun set… its light tinted with orange, bathing the tops of cold headstones..
Short summaries chiseled upon them.. a life time fit into a few words..
Your highest accomplishments.. war hero, purple hearts, loving mothers, fathers, or just being born…
Then your end..
I walk through the endless rows of graves, the grass is thick like carpet and cushions the souls of my shoes..
I can’t help but feel a connection to the dead while reading the last words left to describe them to the world …. Proof they were here and existed
I begin to create visions of who they were, what they looked like, how it felt to know them..
Suddenly I find myself making judgments of them, people I never knew… People from totally different generations..
I then came to the realization of the irony in death
You could go your whole life, not catching a single eye… being a nameless face.. Being a ghost…
And only when death takes you .. People realize you were there.. You existed… they paint a name on your face ..
Only when you become a ghost.. You become real to people… You finally become someone, for some reason, people want to connect to…