Better words than I could have.
Voices, here.
And one more thing:
This poem became well known in the UK after a soldier was killed by
terrorists in Northern Ireland - he left if to be read by his parents in the
event of his death. It's old but nobody is too sure of its origin:
Do not stand by 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.
-H.
Posted by Everydaystranger at September 11, 2003 03:23 PM | TrackBack