Melanin Diaries: Perfectly Imperfect
;
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I did 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 uprising rush
Oh 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.
After the poem, I went on to give a speech about the people I had once called my family. As I spoke, my mind was invaded with several memories of our time together. I could almost see, hear, touch and feel their presence as I went off track.
Hot Chapters