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A Hopi
Prayer
by Mary E. Frye
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 white doves 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.
Information on this page was obtained from newspaper
obituaries, the Social Security Death Index and other sources believed to be accurate. However, if any information presented
is incorrect in any way please contact Joyce Mavis Miller as soon as possible.
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