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?

Better?

Worse?

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.