I’ve been reading and reading this evening. Found this poem and loved it instantly… I don’t know if I missed it during my years as an English major, or if it just didn’t touch me at the time. It was written by Mary Elizabeth Frye for a young girl whose mother had died.
- 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.