PASTOR IN THE EMPTY CHURCH

On a Monday morning early
when the first rays graze
only the tops of the back pews,
the solemn silence
beckons them back . . . the departed ones.

A few left in a huff,
shrugging off the rest of us
like a coat that came back
from the cleaners ruined.
Some drifted away wordless;
we wondered why;
now, years later, we wonder
what became of them.
Some grew up and left
to follow their dreams.
We hope they remember
the promise they made
to follow Jesus.
Some, so many, died,
and in this place
we sat and sang and cried.
Our losses multiplied.

I miss them all.
All.