Bereavement Poem

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 of snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
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 1904 - 2004