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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Author : Mary E. Frye



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 in snow,



I am the sunlight and ripened grain.



I am the gentle Autumn rain.



When you awake in the morning hush,



I am the swift upflinging rush



of quiet birds in circling flight.



I am the soft star shine at night.



Do not stand at my grave and cry,



I am not there, I did not die.

by Liadan, © 1997

Oh, wild lonely places of sweet dread delight

That call to my Children on Halloween night

In whispering wind wisps and whipporwill plight

Tickling the treetops where moonbeams alight.



Come hither, ye Witches, on silver light fly!

Don't dawdle, don't saunter, don't idly stroll by!

Lift your skirts as seer gusts catch the leaves dead and dry

Rise up with the wind soaring hasty on high!



Ride ye thus to the hollow in the wood dark and deep

Where all merry parted shall now merry meet.

At the time 'twas appointed that time shall ye keep

To honor me, hail me in great esbat fete.



When the moon sailing bright in the dark midnight blue

Casts her spell on the landscape, reversing each hue,

And the scent of the night gives the magickal clue

To the circle make haste, give Hecate her due!



Dance wild, draw the power and shape in a cone,

Till the power is thine and the will is thine own

Then hurl't to the wind that thy purpose be flown

And thy wish shall I grant on the Night of the Crone.



One and all then come hither and join the great feast

Where within all are welcome: Spirit, Human, and Beast.

Give hail and farewell to the souls since deceased

Then wend thy way home 'fore the Sun tints the East.



But remember, my Children, remember quite clear

The sound of my voice ringing high in your ear.

'Tis my summoning call in the owl's hoot you hear

To meet merry again on All Hallow's next year.