There were three weeks between tragedy and routine, like there are
7 hills in Worcester, one for every bowl of wrath after a pilgrimage
for meaning her family became a tongue and people came to town
making small talk in a single file line, waiting for a chance
to see the face of God lying in a room with pastel hues
around the corner from a garage door, hoping the experience
might take away their own burdens or be a catalyst
that pushes them to see things beyond what they’ve already
witnessed miracles have happened here or at least
they have been reported, if you can tell the difference
between true and Truth, blood is jarring anytime
it’s outside the body, even moreso when it’s substituted
for tears, so they look through a window in a hallway for a chance
to transfer pain to someone who might be willing to take it
all for a chance to learn that every decision is made for us.
— Tyler Campbell is a writer and adjunct professor in the promised land of northwest Ohio.