Honoring Those Who Have Gone Before Us

--By Vonnie Davis
Last weekend Calvin and I went to an Indian Powwow (Monacan Indians, Amherst, Virginia). Both of his grandmothers were members of this tribe. There we viewed Native American tribal dances and examined hand-made crafts that were for sale. On one vender’s table I found a stack of papers on each of which someone had printed a poem.

I was struck by its beauty, both in imagery and thought. I had never heard of the poem, but after Googling it, I found it has been around for decades, a favorite for eulogies. I think it a powerful, comforting piece. 

Don’t stand at my grave and weep
For I’m 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.

 

AS YOU CELEBRATE MEMORIAL DAY, REMEMBER

OUR FREEDOM DID NOT COME CHEAPLY.

REMEMBER OUR FALLEN MILITARY PERSONNEL.

(To my grandson serving in Afghanistan: Stay safe, Joshua)