A Native American Prayer
April 12, 2010
 

It is said a man hasn't died as long as he is remembered.

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 hush,
I am the swift,
uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there,
I did not die.