Steve A. Rozic

December 16th

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's hush,

I am the sweet 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.

So heal, hear when you awaken what I say

I live with you, I guard your way.