Do not stand at my grave…
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the moring hush,
I am the swift, uplifing rush.
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die!
(Mary Frye, 1932)
Leave a Reply