Across the road at the Faith Community Church a couple of dozen old people, come here to live in trailers and die in the sun, are holding a prayer sing. I cannot hear them and do not want to. What I can hear are occasional coyotes and a constant chorus of "Baby the Rain Must Fall" from the jukebox in the Snake Room next door, and if I were also to hear those dying voices, those Midwestern voices drawn to this lunar country for some unimaginable atavistic rites, rock of ages cleft for me, I think I would lose my own reason.
The passage describes a scene outside the Faith Community Church where elderly individuals gather in trailers, engaging in a prayer sing. The narrator expresses a disinterest in the sounds of the prayer group, instead focusing on the haunting sounds of coyotes in the background and the music from a nearby jukebox. This juxtaposition of life and death highlights the isolation of the elderly in this desolate landscape.
The mention of "dying voices" and "Midwestern voices" evokes a sense of melancholy, suggesting that these people have retreated to this barren environment for reasons that remain obscure. The narrator fears that if they were to fully immerse themselves in the somber atmosphere, they might lose their grip on reality. This reflection illustrates the tension between the vibrancy of life and the inevitability of death in that setting.
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All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!
