Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

My family wants peace. They beg for it
In Jesus' name. Days have passed since my uncle shed
His flesh and sprouted wings, and
I don't know if my family will be okay. "All is well"
Is their response no matter how much they cry. 
And I can't blame them. I have pictured Heaven
A thousand times, but never once did I ask to die.
The closest I got was in the bottle.
Tequila, Vodka, Beer, pick one. The same bottles
they drink from now. 
By the time they take their final sip,
They breakdown where they stand and though
They could barely speak,
They told me of every skeleton in the closet.
I listened. I had a lot to say, but said nothing. 
In the morning, more than my uncle was put to rest.
It was back to "all is well."