I didn’t know you slept below.
We came to visit like the rest,
Where headstones tell the history
Of those who didn’t make it west.
I said the stories; tried to tell
The little boys who climbed the stone
Of “blessed, honored pioneers,”
Not knowing I spoke of our own.
Did you listen from above,
Truly glad we finally came?
As I spewed history to my sons,
Did you listen for your name?
But we just threw a blanket down,
Played with the kids and had a snack.
We snapped a picture by your grave,
Your name emblazoned on the plaque,
Then drove away. You stayed behind–
Traded life for truth I hold.
Please forgive my tourist heart–
I didn’t know you slept below.
This piece was published in 2024 as part of the Holiday Lit Blitz by the Mormon Lit Lab. Sign up for our newsletter for future updates.
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