"Even tho Desi wasn't buried, the 'spirit' of this poem reminds me of him.
Odd thing that..never knew the man but feel like I did." ~ Ruth

Navaho Burial Prayer
Author Unknown

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.

And another one...

A Sonnet
Edna St. Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go, -- so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his boot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

1999

Here are a poem and a song that my friend Ruth Mounts says remind her of Desi.
Thanks, Ruth.
 

High Flight 
by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. 

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth 
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; 
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth 
Of sun-split clouds...and done a hundred things 
You have not dreamed of...wheeled and soared and swung 
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, 
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung 
My eager craft through footless halls of air. 
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue 
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace 
Where never lark, or even eagle flew. 
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod 
The high untrespassed sanctity of space 
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. 
 

Highwayman
Written By Jimmy Webb

Willie:
I was a highwayman 
Along the coach roads I did ride 
With sword and pistol by my side 
Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade, 
Many a soldier shed his life's blood on my blade 
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five 
But I am still alive 

Kris (I think *G*):
I was a sailor, 
I was born upon the tide 
With the sea I did abide 
I sailed a schooner 'round the horn to Mexico 
I went aloft to furl the mainsail in a blow 
And when the yards broke off, 
They said that I got killed 
But I am living still 

Waylon (I hope *g*):
I was a dam builder 
Across the river deep and wide 
Where steel and water did collide 
A place called boulder on the wild colorado 
I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below 
They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound 
But I am still around 
I'll always be around and around and around...