Looking around on the web I found this poem and I though you guys might like to see. "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 softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain. I am the fields of ripening grain. I am the morning hush. I am the graceful rush of beautiful birds in circling flight. I am the star shine of the night. I am the flowers that bloom. I am in a quiet room. I am the birds that sing. I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die." Mary Frye, Baltimore MD, Circa 1933 What do you guys think? Ive always been fond of poems like this.
It's rather pantheistic ... and fits well with my personal philosophy. Our thoughts and feelings don't just reside within our skulls -- they are a part of the universe. Nothing is ever really lost, just obscured or forgotten.
good poem,I wrote something similar for my father in law for his funeral,but I cant remember it! sorry to say....
Good poem find. My personal favorite "remembrance" poem was penned by Don Crawford (untitled to my knowledge) after WW1: "Please wear a poppy," the lady said And held one forth, but I shook my head. Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there, And her face was old and lined with care; But beneath the scars the years had made There remained a smile that refused to fade. A boy came whistling down the street, Bouncing along on care-free feet. His smile was full of joy and fun, "Lady," said he, "may I have one?" When she's pinned it on he turned to say, "Why do we wear a poppy today?" The lady smiled in her wistful way And answered, "This is Remembrance Day, And the poppy there is the symbol for The gallant men who died in war. And because they did, you and I are free. That's why we wear a poppy, you see. "I had a boy about your size, With golden hair and big blue eyes. He loved to play and jump and shout, Free as a bird he would race about. As the years went by he learned and grew, And became a man as you will, too. "He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile, But he'd seemed with us such a little while When war broke out and he went away. I still remember his face that day When he smiled at me and said, Goodbye, I'll be back soon, Mom, so please don't cry. "But the war went on and he had to stay, And all I could do was wait and pray. His letters told of the awful fight, I can see it still in my dreams at night, With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire, And the mines and bullets, The bombs and fire. "Till at last, at last, the war was won, And that's why we wear a poppy son." The small boy turned as if to go, Then said, "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know. That sure did sound like an awful fight, But your son, did he come back all right?" A tear rolled down each faded check; She shook her head, but didn't speak. I slunk away in a sort of shame, And if you were me you'd have done the same; For our thanks, in giving, if oft delayed, Though our freedom was bought, And thousands paid! So when we see a poppy worn, Let us reflect on the burden borne, By those who gave their very all When asked to answer their country's call That we at home in peace might live. Then wear a poppy! Remember - and give!
