Fire ascending from the basement as the office floorboard caved in to infiltrate the sanctuary. A place of worship now a warzone of missing casualties and shattered faith. Shattered like stained glass windows erupting wild smoke into the sky. How the pulpit which spoke good news drops into black wreckage. Enough time for a community to bear witness and fall to the knees not in prayer, but a new disbelief. How I learned to see Cambridge Street through the absence of a ceiling. How I now identify a place I grew up in the flames that consumed it. If there's any poetry to be found in this it's the union of broken people who learned to mourn in these same walls through funerals and walks of life. Now find an array of grievances situated away from the holy ground guarded for safety as firefighters confront catastrophe. When you remove the home from hometown it's a place you recognize less of seeing yourself on the outskirts watching, waiting unsure of what comes next.
James Leggett