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A poem for all who have lost a loved one.

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 the birds that sing
I am in each gentle thing.

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

Author: Mary E. Frye (formerly attributed to Native American sources).


Socks, my early morning greeter.

Another version:

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 awake in the mornings hush,
I am the swift upflinging 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...

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