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A Hopi Prayer

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.

by Mary E. Frye

This entry was posted on 6/20/2004 at 6/20/2004 11:12:00 pm. You can skip to the end and leave a response.

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