The Tombstone (In Dalkeith) Poem by Randy McClave

His Tombstone, it still haunts me
Even though I don't know who he was,
I found it while visiting a foreign country
I first wondered why he was there, maybe just because.
He was originally born In my state and my county
But, that was over two hundred years before I was born,
Why did he leave our land and state of bounty
To go live and then to die, and have no one to mourn.
I wonder if his spirit walks the graveyard alone
As he searches for a familiar landmark or face,
Out of loneliness, I wonder does he moan
Does he ever miss his country, his true birthplace.
I also wondered why did he leave our America
To go live and then to die, but not in his parent's land,
It wasn't because of a war, but was it for an Erica
Maybe he gave a woman his being, and a wedding band.
Or perhaps he left our country because of persecution
Or did he leave it because of love and desire,
Maybe finding a new home was his only solution
Or maybe he left, just to rest and then to retire.
I often wondered when he had left his family
Did they each think that soon he would be returning home,
Wishing that one day that he would arrive, finally
Then become the settler who gives up the roam.
One day I promise that I will visit him once again
As one countryman must always visit the grave of another,
But, to be honest, I just don't know when
Maybe with my family, and we will arrive just like a souther.
I still remember reading his headstone inscription
All it showed was the date he was born and the date he died,
Of his life and accomplishments there was no description
His existence and living and adventures had been denied.
I guess no-one knows why that he left
Or in his new home what was his life or his enterprise,
At his grave I then gave him a short bereft
I then wondered, were there ever tears in anyone's eyes.

Randy L. McClave