Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
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So beautiful. Thank you. <3
ReplyDeleteI love this poem, so beautiful. xo
ReplyDeleteI love this... I remember being touched by it when I read it 20 years ago and still, even now, it touches my soul.
ReplyDeleteI've read this one before, but it means so much more now that my baby has died. Thank you for posting this.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! Thanks for sharing this!
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