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This poem is dedicated to my beloved sister, Joanne, who was murdered in 1996.

I miss you every day, Joey, and dream of you every night. The more time passes, the more that happens in my life, the more I miss you and wish you were here to share these experiences. And, the more I experience, the more I am constantly reminded of how you should be here experiencing and living your precious life.

There are no words profound enough to reflect my deep feelings for you, and for what was done to you, and for what you should be doing right now, Joanne.

Jo, that evil had no right to even exist near you.

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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 ripening grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there - I do not die.

Author: Mary Elizabeth Frye
First Published 1932

     Dasher resting.


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