Loss

Sometimes

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 circling flight 
I am the soft star-shine at night 

Do not stand at my grave and cry 
I am not there, I did not die…

Comments

Alison Brown said…
This is so lovely - my Aunty read it at my Grandad's funeral - he was buried in a woodland area, and the poem seemed so fitting...
Hope you and Debbie are doing ok, xx
7.9.11
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