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, 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. -author unknown-
We have all suffered losses and expect some ahead. Some day we will be someone else’s loss. This poem, although front and center about death, carries wings in its beauty and peace in its tune. I hope it helps.
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