A Thousand Winds
Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that flow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grains.
I am the gentle autumn's 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
I read this poem at two family funerals. Yes, they are gone, but they are a part of my world forever for they are everywhere I roam.
