200415876-001.jpg{link:We weep our silent tears}

Amidst hum of the multitude, I could just mumble a poem for you. The bravest girl!

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 swift 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.  

….The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost. ~Arthur Schopenhauer

I request the visitor to stay silent for a moment. LET US FEEL FOR A HUMAN LIKE A HUMAN. Thank you.

*The Poem was written at least 50yrs ago. Has been attributed, at different times, to JT Wiggins, Mary E.Fry and Marianne Reinhardt, and recently to a British soldier killed in Northern Ireland, Stephen Cummins (who left a copy for his relatives)