https://p33d33.wordpress.com/2015/05/20/not-what-i-expected/

I read once more the beautiful poem of Mary Elizabeth Frye, written in 1932 for a Jewish friend whose mother had died in Germany…

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.

(Photo taken 5/1/2015.)

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