One day when I’m dead I’ll be all over

with except for memory if that counts

and the life to come which I’ve come to then

and if there’s a third way I’m not so sure

that I know it but maybe I’ll find out

when finding out’s too late, it’s right funny

how that works, at least from life’s side and if

not from the other then I expect to


know if one can know anything, I know

I can’t be alive forever, enjoy

good and avoid bad even as I make

bad happen, somehow I just can’t help it

and if there’s such as thing as sin that’s it

though I should know more when I’m no longer


but one day when I’m dead I won’t be, won’t

be dead I mean, will just begin to live

the life to come, the life-in-death that life

seems meant to be and my only problem

is that I can’t let others know, others

still alive I mean, what they can expect,

at least nobody’s told me, I mean not


from their own experience – at church and

Sunday School I must trust God and Jesus

and the Holy Ghost and the Bible and

Preacher and Miss Hooker, my Sunday School

teacher, but damned if that’s so, I’d rather

trust myself or meet up with dead-live folks

I want to know, one day my parents and

friends and folks I’ve heard of but not yet met,


including, say, me. I scare me to death.



By Gale Acuff