The Stranger’s Grave

Nobody knew anything about the stranger’s grave, yet it was in a prominent position in the town. I asked the man sitting on the bench next to it and he just shrugged his shoulders.

I checked the guide books and they mentioned nothing.  The man must have had influence though, as his grave was elevated where as others were in the ground.  I know his name was Huseyin and I know that no one visits his grave.

Who was the Stranger?

No daughters or sons, no lovers or widows. Grass and weeds are growing on top of it and years of bad weather have taken their toll on the stone plaque. Was Huseyin a rich man? Did he make a difference to the world around him? Was he an educated man or did he break the hearts of all around him?

Will that be me in fifty years’ time? Will a stranger be looking at my grave and wonder who I was and what I achieved? Or will they just shrug their shoulders and carry on their merry way like all the others that will pass that way.

I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

Maya Angelou – America Poet – Born 1928