A herd of elephants came marching through.
A dark miasma covered up the land.
A golden, dying hoard of seraphim.
An exaltation falling to the earth.
A rage of grief, of hopelessness, and tears.
It doesn’t really matter what is said.
The only thing that matters is it’s gone.
Three other churches burned; a mosque, a synagogue
destroyed. It doesn’t matter that they’re gone.
It only matters it is gone, destroyed.
It’s conflagration was spectacular
and all the world watched it while it died.
But places where a hundred people prayed
don’t matter. No one watched those places die.
They were not famous, were not old and rich.
They died unmourned and will not be rebuilt.