It’s hard to believe you’re gone.
Though I didn’t know you well,
you’ve been there all my life.
I only visited a couple of times,
but you impressed me,
remained with me,
and I got used to you being there.
People try to tell me
there will be life after death,
and you will live again.
Will it be the same?
Or just a shadow of existence,
a pale memory of what you were.
Will the world accept your resurrection,
or will their energies be diverted
to more pressing needs?
Yes, you were a focus
for so many people,
part of their identity,
but when all’s said and done,
you were just a church.