Odd Fellow Cemetery

Dark shadows enclose the wall of bricks at 5055 Canal Street, New Orleans, Louisiana.
A place of old spindly trees, fallen tombs and scattered bricks moistened green with moss,
We seek for a remnant of a grandfather who died young and his memory lost:
Entombed at Odd Fellows Rest Cemetery and forgotten for almost a century.
Maybe one fallen brick, linear and final,
Will engrave his name in the red masonry:

John Ellis, our progenitor, as we were told:
“Was an Irishman, linked to the Viking race:
A singing voice that would soothe the soul.
Blue eyed, a muscular stature, broad shoulders, a trim waist,
With an unquenchable thirst and a hearty taste.”

The wrought iron gate is rusted shut
From our generation anew:
It seems strange to think we exist
By only the dice that Fate threw.

—Kathleen Ellis Faulkner