Have I left a lasting footprint?
To be remembered, not forgotten.
In dying you take nothing with you.
What you leave behind matters.
The fear of disappearing into dust.
No footprint left behind.
A year passes, will I be missed?
A grave of weeds or flowers blooming?
Death snuffs out life.
What awaits, only the dead knows.
No answers there, only faith.
My believe in everlasting life.
So, why do I fear being forgotten?
Could it be I crave immortality?
No, that is not the reason.
Take a walk among the tombstones.
Long lost graves, in ruins.
The headstones unreadable.
Is there no one to tell their story?
For they once walked among the living.
To be slowly erased from this world.
A headstone with no markings.
Strangers ask, “Who is buried here”?
Yes, I fear to be forgotten.
By C.E. Pereira