They stare out at me with eyes that no longer see.
Their faces are masked by time; glimpses unto a past which led unto me.
Who are these souls save those whom branch out to form this human tree?
What are their names, and what would they say if to me they would speak?
1903 is come soon to one hundred and four years ago.
It was a time before cars and planes, a time when life was hard and slow.
No electricity on the farm, no indoor plumbing, nor heat and air.
Their life was so very different than this of mine, yet still by blood we share.
But who are these which look out at me with eyes so still and blank?
And why, oh why do they call out my name to yet stir this soul from rank?
For they are me and I them…we come from a common root
as they are the branch and I be the stem.
Though only of one of these thirty one souls have I ever known.
Their sudden reappearance today has to me hit home.
I want to know more about how they in life dealt,
I want to know more how they must have truly felt.
Maybe someday I will know…maybe never.
J. Allen Wilson © TWELVE 2006