Do not stand at our graves and weep
We are not there, we do not sleep.
We’re a thousand winds that blow, we’re the diamond glints on snow.
We’re the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush, we’re the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight, we’re the bright stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at our graves and cry, we are not there, although we died.
In memory of my late husband and our son who left us long before his time.
