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.
– Mary Elizabeth Frye
Submitted by:
Ashwin KumarPostscript:
This is a consolation, an acceptance of death as natural and inevitable. The imagery is very vivid, and the voice gentle. It reminded me of a number of poems dealing with this theme, with this one (a favourite, by Millay) being exactly opposite in view and tone.
You can read a bit about Mary Elizabeth Fry and how the poem came to be here.
Tagged: death, epitaph, imagery, loss, Mary Elizabeth Frye