queen anne's lace
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 glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!
Mary Frye
I don't understand death. I don't accept it. How can that be at my age ? As the years go by I
feel like I'm less and less comfortable when faced with it. It lingers with me, haunting me really.
I don't fear my own death yet I feel overwhelmed by thoughts of death and dying. Anticipating and remembering my own losses. Knowing feelings of grief and sadness which loom that large will always turn into fear. I spend far too much time fending off that imagined & imminent fear. When faced with death, especially the death of an animal, beloved or wild, it won't leave me.
I wish it would. Mary Frye's words are comfort.
and this from Alice ... thank you
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
Let it be spoken without effect, without a trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
Henry Scott Holland
complete poem found here in the comments
I feel the same way, Susan. It's very overwelming at times.
ReplyDeleteoverwhelming
ReplyDeleteMerci sweet Mary D. it's very comforting to know that you understand & feel the same way.
ReplyDeleteI so needed this poem right now. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteMy heart was with you Dani when I posted this morning and I'm so happy that this poem helps you. It is a beautiful way to think of missing.
ReplyDeleteI love tht poem and have often copied it into bereavement cards.I never knew who the author was, thanks. Death mystifies me too:(
ReplyDeleteI've always liked this poem.
All Is Well
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
Let it be spoken without effect, without a trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should you be sad of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well.
Henry Scott Holland
1847-1918
Canon of St Paul 's Cathedral
thanks so much Alice for this poem (I hadn't read this one). Sad, beautiful, comforting and still makes me cry.
ReplyDeletethank you for this post, susan. it's exactly what i needed this morning.
ReplyDelete:)
xo Alison
Death is on my mind too, at present. Like so many people, it isn't death that I fear, but the process of dying... My next-door neighbour of many years, a good deal younger than me, is dying slowly and painfully at home, fighting blindly, so ill and disabled that no one knows how much she comprehends. The pain in the faces of her friends and carers is terrible to watch, and hard to alleviate. Perhaps later, poems such as these will offer comfort...
ReplyDeletewhat a completely wonderful blog post.
ReplyDeleteWell, I am opposite. I don;t fear death as much as my own death! Well, the process of it! i don't for axample. want to die suffocating and gasping for air from some heart ache, or drowning, or such. now, i don;t mind being happily asleep in a jet plane and it blows up over the Atlantic. Tragedy for all but quick and painless and no body to have to worry about for burial. I know, macabre.
ReplyDelete