ATTN: Native English speakers please.
Is there another way you can interpret this poem other than it's coming from a dead person ?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.
Thank you in advance.
Comments (34)
You can interpret it writed by live person becase dead person don't write poems.
The person could be alive and thinking of what he/she can contribute upon their death!
Also..whoever wrote it could see it as a spiritual experience...their spirit not dying..returning to Source..and being one with Source in every moment and everything.
Very nice poem Usha!
I see the poem as being written by someone who has reason to think they may die in the near future. She wants someone who she has a very close relationship with to think of her as not just being a physical body that may be here today and gone tomorrow. She wants the person to think of their shared memories and the things that meant something to both of them -diamond glints on snow, soft stars that shine at night, etc.- as being her also. I think she is saying that as long as all those things exist, then she will also exist in the mind and heart (if you like) of the other person.
I really don't see it as a poem about being recycled back into the Universe.
It's her/he's way of saying I will continue to live my life by other wonderful means.
one of the most famous epitaphs has dozens of variations, all more or less on the following 'speaking from the grave' theme
Remember me as you walk by,
as you are now so once was I,
as I am now, soon you will be,
Prepare yourself to follow me.
Mourn not my passing when I am gone.
For life has favoured me and I have had my due.
Let the children grow, take my place and carry on,
And so life’s cycle constantly renew.
And when they speak of my earthly dwelling,
The lives I touched, the hearts I fed,
Bid them hush, his story needs no retelling.
What’s past is past, what’s dead is dead.
So when this place I do depart,
This mundane patch of earth transcend.
Allow no grieving in your heart,
I’m only going for a long weekend.
I find this poem incredibly moving.
I think we should all just take a moment to quietly remember him.
I thought his name Hairball.
Cool!
I was at my parents, sister's and brother's grave only on the day of their funeral. For I believe nothing's there.
What impress me is the attitude of the religious ones, who belive in kingdom come, yet they cry by the gravestones and consider the graveyards the Holy place.
Noone wants to die.
Not even Mr Stringman.
..... so much about paradise up there.
To recreate the snowflake, maybe try the white ice from a freezer.
This is my daughters videography assignment for yet another Multimedia degree she enrolled in.
I do the homework. Not always but when she is struggling with time
Multi-media is interesting, and good for her creative brain
You've Heard My Voice (And You Know My Name)
This version sung by Art Podell. Can't tell if he's the original composer. Goes back to mid-'60s Sample verse:
Well now you've heard my voice in the winds of spring
Seen my face where the roses cling
I am the touch that the warm rains bring
I make my home in the heart of everything
In the drivin' rain of a summer squall
When the summer's gone and the petals fall
When the day is done and the night birds call
Then you've heard my voice
And you know my name
The following is a piece I wrote and posted on Poet's Corner recently exploring this theme:
Connection to Nature
(Author: socrates44)
I am connected to Nature
And Nature is connected to me
From the tiniest insect
To the largest tree
From creatures in the deepest ocean
To those on top the highest mountain
From the tiniest ant
To the largest elephant
The tree takes in what I exhale
And returns to me what I inhale
I consume as food, plant life from the earth
After I die, on my remains they will feed
I am connected to Nature
And Nature is connected to me
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Sep 22
About this poem:
Dedicated to those who experience a direct personal connection
to Nature independent of any explanation.
(Any attempt at explanation detracts from the immediate empirical quality
of the experience which is the focus of this piece.)
I think according to the poet death is not dead and is it is not a negative, depressing thing.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We are recycled back to earth and we are present in each season, but not dead.
Now making this into a Vfx movie and writing a script?
Maybe this will help Usha. The link does relate to universal conscious concept in the poem.
My scatterbrain can't understand much science. But I find it similar to Shintoism.
Absolutely. They wrote it, therefore they are alive. Dead people do not compose, write then publish poetry. In fact of about 10,000 dead authors (I am sure there are more, but I never met many of them) I know of, not a single one of them wrote not even a single word once they had died.
Hmmm. . I got you. I think.