A poem for Bruce

This Navajo prayer seemed to be Bruce talking:

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.

You will live in our thoughts and memories.

Always, 

Linda Ward