Tuesday, August 5, 2014

I Am Not There

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye

 Image by agrolina.


Adam said...

Amazing poem! Creepy.

HalloweeNut said...

Beautiful and moving. The sort of thing I'd want read at my funeral.