I am not there; I did not die.

Dont stand at my bedside and cry

I am not there, I have said and heard my last goodbye

I am the winds that stir the forests dark

I am the glow that shines from fading lamps in the park

Like the struggling sun as it moves up into the sky

The early morning stirrings, the birds that fly

Last night, but briefly, my star rose then fell

My spirit flickered weakly – straining to hear what you would tell

Do not stand now at my bedside to cry

For I am not there; but I am here, I did not die.

Christina FITZPATRICK
Nov 5 2021

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