When great grandmother died they salted the land down south, I suppose because some burdens aren't worth carrying alone, or because they believed the harvest wouldn't taste like triumph anymore, or maybe it's just that sentiment still holds as much weight as grief in some places, either way, this is a story that begins at a funeral and ends in a grocery store
When grandfather died they gave him full honors, thanked him for his service in the rain, as if this place is any cleaner for all that pain, as if the war hadn't carved the heart from his chest and left broken bottles in its place, I think about how ceremony can make men out of monsters and back again, on the drive home I wonder what they'll say about me
When the angel of death appeared to me,
He said,
"If you're willing to believe this isn't the end,
We shall have no more to discuss tonight"
I closed my eyes then,
I've been feeling around in the dark ever since,
Afraid of what comes next