Why have I been denied?

As I sleep my teeth are set against each other in noisy abandon and I awake from troubled dreams with an aching face. Will I grind my teeth even in death? My final rest burning and disturbed?

And when will God come? Will he visit my grave when my body’s buried low and cold amid the mindless seeking of the worms? Will he come bearing flowers, sanctified and bright? Is it then that I shall find my peace, and my churning corpse mouth cease? Where is my rest? Why have I been denied?