Mary:
I lost my daughter to brain cancer. The MoQ helped me cope with her death
by suggesting that what is most real is what is most valuable. For me, what
is most valuable is beauty. And so for me, this poem answered where my
daughter went . . .
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 autuum's rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there . . .
Where beauty is, my daughter is.
Platt
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