Secrets Of The Dead Poem by Paula Glynn

Buried secrets in a coffin haunt me,
I was found but now I am lost,
There is no comforting home,
Or expressive love,
Where do all these problems come from?
Tax evasion, rape, mental illness,
Torture and war,
Nothing is sacred in the secrets of the dead,
They all try to think with their head,
But the groups wins,
And they seldom do,
With all the bloodshed.
And how wrong it all is,
Body bags unzipped in heaven,
Many paying the price,
Life cruel for some, evil in the air,
As if the devil rose from his grave,
To spread pain to the innocent,
But it's not all bad:
For angels help the ghosts of lost souls,
To find a place of peace and comfort,
Where a beautiful garden blooms,
Fresh fragrance filling the air,
And where no snake waits at the apple tree,
And the sun tans skin,
The light my destination,
Away from the horrors of my coffin,
And I reach for the stars,
My angel wings flying me through space,
To watch over Mother Earth:
The world called paradise,
Where love keeps the world turning.