Mary Villani

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 awake in the morning’s hush
I am the swift up flinging rush,
Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night,
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die.