“A church turns into a crime scene”
a heading in a news article,
defines the state we are in;
the sacred has been robbed of
its sacredness, or
We are left to find it in other places:
The shack of a house, overgrown by
moss and vines and the meat
of the earth.
The little girl, book propped behind
the water fountain, not wasting
a second of her precious life.
The way the sun pierces through
a certain cloud to shine
through a certain tree and
set certain leaves ablaze,
the sacred, sacred way it does.