by Anna Miller
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's rain
When you waken in the mornings' hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die