Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I dance amongst the flames that crackle as you sing your song.
I am the hundred trees that blow,
I am the river we used to know.
I am the soft summer rain in which we used to kiss…
I whisper softly words of comfort,
Words you used to love.
I am your sweet inspiration for when all is lost,
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
Credit to Mary Elizabeth Frye, whose poem inspired me to write this.
Comments
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Dreamy
I like the circle the poem makes, beginning and ending at the grave. Poe said there is no more poetical a subject than the death of a beautiful woman. Maybe that's why this poem is so beautiful. It is sad because the dead do live on, in memory especially; but also cosmically as in your poem. Good job, BrokenSanity. I don't really know what the smiling yellow guys do, but take a few.
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WoW
very nice and i loved every part of it,
i think i read this somewhere before, if i'm not mistaken, its in the newspaper, yes i'm preety sure
i really loved this
it was sad and hopefull too
very good write !
Shuberth
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very beautiful piece. well done and well expressed. i loved it!!!!!!!!!!
-deadly
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This is amasing I love it its so enchanting and in a way haunting and very enpowering I love it well written.
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It's beautiful... I like it, it's really good.
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