You were before I was
We never met
You never dreamed of me
But I know a lot about you
Your blood, your DNA
Somehow run through me
I am a part of who you were
When I stand beside the marker left behind
That reminds me of who you were
I stand on sacred ground
You are not the beginning
I am not the end
But somewhere in between
We were
©️ Ruby Neumann
Poet's Note: Written October 4, 2026
This is a picture of a cemetery that I have ancestors buried in. I don't know which headstones are theirs. I've never been there. This cemetery is in Poland. I have pictures of this place provided by a new friend who lives in the same area of the world where my ancestors came from. Why they were there is chilling. They were refugees from religious persecution. They left their home because what they believed wasn't allowed. People died believing what they believed. There was this mass migration of people to this area because they were not wanted.
Eventually more migrated to Canada... and eventually connections were made... and I exist because of those connections.
I wrote this poem thinking of the ancestors I have that are buried in Canada. I have stood beside their graves. It is sacred ground. But somewhere across the ocean, more sacred ground exists for me. There are graveyards where my ancestors are buried in. I may never find them all... but to me, they are still sacred.
