Poems about Death
Use these poems about death that have been handpicked to bring you peace and comfort...
Don’t Stand At My Grave And Weep
“Don’t stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I don’t sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glint on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the autumn rain.When you awake in the morning hush, I am the swift uplifting rush, Of birds circling in flight. I am the stars that shine at night. Don’t stand at my grave and weep. I am not there. I don’t sleep.” ~Anonymous (Northwest Indian Memorial on Death)
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Fear Not Death As Life, Death, And Being Are As One, It Is A Circle
“Fear not that which is now, Fear not that which is to come. Life, Death, and Being are as one, It is a circle. It is no beginning and no end. For that which is the beginning is the end of other. And that which is the end is the beginning of the other. Surely the lesson of life are the wisdom of death. Those that live in the knowledge of what the circle truly is have peace beyond measure.” ~Anonymous
Death Thou Can't Kill Me
“Death not be proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.” ~John Donne
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The Prayer of St. Francis- It Is In Dying, That We Are Born To Eternal Life
"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.Where there is hatred, let me sow love,Where there is injury, pardon,Where there is doubt, faith,Where there is despair, hope,Where there is darkness, light,And where there is sadness, joy.O Divine Master,Grant that I may not so muchSeek to be consoled,As to console,To be understood,As to understand,To be loved,As to love with all my soul.For it is in giving,That we receive,It is in pardoningThat we are pardoned,And it is in dyingThat we are born to eternal life." The Prayer of St. Francis
And When The Earth Shall Claim Your Limbs, Then Shall You Truly Dance.
Than Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death." And he said: You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the sheered not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink form the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
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