Reflections

 

Words of Comfort        

                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 1932

 

 

 

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