Myth of the Reaper

The sounds of some louder men stain
The sheets of some quieter women.

Then grows the silence that reaps the hills
Where Death seldom speaks.

I've heard the voice of the Grim Reaper;
She is as holy as she is deadly.

She preaches the words of God
Like a mourning dove calling for her late lover.

Like the pastors lecture the sheep
While the shepherds heard the wolves.

The women whisper their virulent teachings
In bed with soothed men, finally, at peace.