Abraham Levitsky April 1, 1922 – July 2, 2012

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.
But live in the hands of God.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx—Mary Elizabeth Frye, 1932



xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxNotation of Abe’s on this poem:
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx“What is it about this simple prayer that stirs my
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxsoul so deeply? I long for what’s pure in me.”