Do not stand at my grave and weep

[Stormy accepts you]

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 sunlight 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 Elizabeth Frye

From, all our lost family

 

[Antonio65]

This is the most touching poem that I had read ever.
There was a time when I knew it by heart, and I would say it in my mind a couple of times a day.

The very first time I read it was in a graveyard in Killorglin, county Kerry, Ireland, during one of my several trips to the Emerald Isle.
I thought that it was just one of the most touching tributes that a talented person had dedicated to their dear, and I liked it so much that I took a picture of the grave.
Then, several months or a couple of years later, I found out it was an actual poem written about 80 years earlier.

Yes, it is something that touches the heart of those who cry over a lost one.

The authorship of the poem is subject of dispute, and it seems that Mary Elizabeth Frye wasn't the real author.

 

[di and bob]

Thank you so much. It takes us a long time, but eventually we do realize that everything the poem says is true.......

 

[Stormy accepts you]

This is the most touching poem that I had read ever.
There was a time when I knew it by heart, and I would say it in my mind a couple of times a day.

The very first time I read it was in a graveyard in Killorglin, county Kerry, Ireland, during one of my several trips to the Emerald Isle.
I thought that it was just one of the most touching tributes that a talented person had dedicated to their dear, and I liked it so much that I took a picture of the grave.
Then, several months or a couple of years later, I found out it was an actual poem written about 80 years earlier.

Yes, it is something that touches the heart of those who cry over a lost one.

The authorship of the poem is subject of dispute, and it seems that Mary Elizabeth Frye wasn't the real author.

Really?

 

[Kris107]

Love this poem too. Death is a transition but they are still around!