Sauce and Ants!

Sorrows stir within.
The funeral retains an aura of raucous silence from our inner cries.
It was more of a sauna, a trance of the sound of rain as I held my rose.
The sun can rest above clouds and care not to show herself to a mortal’s rest.
I look up into the falling rain and hope my prayers shall oust the day star.
There was a moment when all of us thought that we had seen a hand arose from a grave!
What could of roust a soul? Rest!
A score of ants then emerged from beneath the tan coffin lid! The mourning crowd can’t retain their stance!
So, the mourners ran! My aunt raved into a wild rant!
The hand of the corpse drove open the lid, hunched over the side of the coffin,
and out spewed a sauce of vomit and ants!