(do not stand at my grave and weep)
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 sun 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 Frye, 1932 (version published on a postcard, according to this site.) There are other versions but this one seems the simplest one.
I originally saw this poem as a newspaper clipping on my friend Tara's refrigerator. Maybe it had something to do with the recent death of her aunt, whose house she now lives in. I guess it hit home and I want to remember it…for later reference…
Not meant to sadden anyone or anything like that.