"A Hopi Prayer"

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 the ripened grain.

I am the gentle

Autumn's rain.

When you awaken

in hte morning 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.

This is where my thoughts are today. The above poem is from a card I'll be mailing to the widow of a family friend who passed away just yesterday. I feel a very strong call back to my Pagan roots. I need to be with Nature in hopes of finding some sort of peace and understanding.

There has been so much death in the last year and I'm not seeing any re-birth, I'm feeling somewhat dead inside myself. Master tells me it is only temporary, hang in there, it will pass. But it's not passing and I'm becoming sadder with each new death. Much like a child I can't seem to comprehend that these people are truly gone from this world, from this life. Whenever I think about them my grief is like a freshly opened wound and hurts as much as it did the very first day.

Much as the poem says, they are still here, that which is remembered lives. If only I could bring myself to remember without the heartache.