What is Death? (5): Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

I found this poem, "Do not stand at my grave and weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye and the history of how it happened to be written at the Businessballs.com website. This poem, too, tells us again, like the poem by Walt Whitman in my first posting, that death may not be the end of some sort of existence. I think because it has been difficult to ascribe a finality of life to death, this may contribute to the difficulty in defining death itself. In fact, physicians know about families who have taken their dead family members home from the hospital to maintain some sort of continued “support”. ..Maurice.

Do not stand at my grave and weep

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 sun 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.