For Ginny 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 starlight at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die. **Modern Version of one of the most beautiful bereavment poems I have ever read. I dedicate this to my Ginny. Dec 13, 2004 — Dec 14, 2008 |
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