I sat among aged old wood today
and cried as whiffs of decay
floated out from among the rafters.
The space was ours for a time,
but last night came the gunshots, the searchlight,
and today the rattling of barracaded doors.
This afternoon, when I climbed the stairs
and sat among the aged old wood after everyone had gone,
I saw -
above our sanctuary, above my head
the roof was caving in.
There among the aged wood I cried for
the gunshots, searchlights, and the sound of your retreating footsteps.
I sat, after everyone had gone,
and cried for the playing space
that had once housed faith.
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