Welcome back, friends! It’s April, which means a poem every day– or at least every I remember to post one here. One of the things I love about poetry is its ability to take BIG FEELINGS and bring them down to small, manageable words, while still retaining the importance and weight of the original feelings. Prose conveys information; poetry, experience.
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.