"Do not sit by my grave and weep..."
Do not sit by my grave and weep..
I am not there...I do not sleep there..
I am a breeze that blows...
I am a sparkling mirror in the cold snow..
I am the sun falling on a golden wheat field...
I am the rain that is released in the autumn sun..
I am the dove that flies around you in the quiet moment of the morning,
I am the silent bird that wakes up the sound of the night..
I am the sweet star that shines in the night..
So, do not sit by my grave and weep...
I am not dead...
Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934
Based on a poem by Claire Horner...
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More stories from Rohitha Lanka and writers in Poets and other communities.
Getting Serious About Comedy (Part I)
If I were asked to remark on my life and the childhood that paved some road leading me to this point, I would have to say something about all the funny people who surrounded me for the last 26,872 days (and counting). Somewhere along that road, I became a big fan of laughter and the comedy that spawns it – and, I mean not only my own laughter, but the laughter of others, some of which I have actually been responsible for inducing.
By John Oliver Smith6 days ago in Humor
Comments (6)
This poem is a breathtaking whisper of comfort, a balm for grieving hearts. Clare Harner's words paint a vibrant portrait of eternal presence beyond the grave. A truly beautiful, deeply moving ode to life's enduring, ethereal connection! 🌞🫡🌄🫡🌻
Love it!
Aww, this hit me so hard 🥹🥰 Thanks for sharing this 🥰
Rohitha my friend your work and poem topic are great
I have loved this poem for many years nice choice ♦️🙏♦️
Brilliant 👏