Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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.

~Anonymous, Londonderry 1989

The funeral's tomorrow.