On this thirty-first day of October, I pause for a moment’s reflection
I take time to remember the forgotten
Not those whose lives fill the pages of history’s book
But those whom the ancient texts overlook
It is easy to read a number written on paper or carved into stone
Commemorating the dead unknown
No other life-story written out for the world to recall
Accomplishments lost – both great and small
But those numbers represent people who fill earth’s graves
They were lovers, refugees, dreamers and slaves
They worked hard, creating a foundation for a better life
They clung to hope through war and strife
They carried with them experience, knowledge and wisdom
They never asked to be a nameless victim
Their killers, tormentors, abusers have their place in humanity’s diary
But the innocent dead are lost to our memory
Even today we hear of the thousands persecuted and dead
But a far away number doesn’t turn our head
So, I will light a Hallows Eve candle for the numbered deceased
To grieve for the dead and to hope for peace
Every Life is a Memoir 
December 11th, 2015 at 8:18 AM
We all grown upon all those who came before us, unknown as well as those more know. Every life matters – and we often tend to forget that. I lovely tribute to them, Claire.
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December 15th, 2015 at 9:14 PM
Thank you, Otto! I completely agree. It so easy to take for granted how much we build on previous generations and how much knowledge is lost with every casualty. I often think what amazing things people could have accomplished had they not been victims of tragedy. How many of them would have changed history, I wonder? Thank you as always for taking the time to read my work, and for your thoughtful replies!
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