The dead travel in droves

The dead travel in droves:
In the hangar of a plane as luggage
Package number 32

The dead have no names
Had we forgotten?
As in absence of their souls
Their bodies are nothing,
Just rotten

The dead travel in droves,
Yet her face was fixing on mine, I swear it
Her soul was living intermingled with thine;

The cold feeling of the winter raindrop
The unheard casting down
The silent 'plop, plop'

The dead travel in droves
They travel forgotten in themselves

Tender faces hold no place in her mind;
And now her empty house is all that's left,
The house and all who struggle inside

She travels singly
The dead travel in droves
But she travels within her husband, who travels alone,
And with her children who have to tend on their own
And so,
Enlightened by this,
I like to believe she's not dead,
Just gone home