I am here.

Raging waters, roaring rapids, currents flood me, but I am solid and do not move.

Am I the strongest, the most resilient? I’d hate to think so.

Trees tower overhead, leaves fall in circles around me, I am at but a speck in the grand scheme of it all.

Am I important, important in the slightest bit? I’d hate to think so.

The sun cascades through the clouds, stinging my skin in a nostalgic kind of way, but I am unphased.

Am I fearful of the repercussions of my actions? I’d hate to think so.

With each breath, I think about where to go next, where to venture, I am fleeting, just like time.

Am I letting life pass me by without stopping and appreciating it? I’d hate to think so.

 

Now, I am gone.

Flowers and I dance the synchronized dance of decay. I am returning to earth.

Am I the soil squished between your toes? I like to think so.

Every Sunday the swarm of mourning families flood in. I am left alone.

Am I alone because my children are out in the world living beautiful lives? I like to think so.

The stone identifying me is cleaned regularly, so as not to cover me up. I am still being taken care of.

Am I still important in some peoples eyes? I like to think so.

Time passes by and the visits stop altogether. I am forgotten.

Am I still on their minds? I like to hope so.