The lord is dead, a photographer says,
taking pictures of an abandoned church.

Who is he—the doctor
who writes God’s prescriptions?

If God were sick, the earth
would swallow itself like a pill,

the sky collapse in a silent
collision. If dead, the galaxies

would protest, demanding
an explanation for their existence.

But through broken windows,
the evidence of God grows

unencumbered by chairs
or concrete walls.

At night, I feel the pulse
of God overwhelm me.

And what does the photographer feel?
Above him, are the trees silent?

In the abandoned church, the ceilings
collapse and pews point upward.

Fallen foliage becomes palm leaves,
a dead raccoon the offering.

Along the floor, a new temple
collects: two green budding trees.

This article appears in Spring Literary Review 2018.

Meg Eden’s work is published or forthcoming in Prairie Schooner, Poetry Northwest, Poet Lore, RHINO and CV2. She teaches creative writing at the University of Maryland. Her novel, Post-High School Reality Quest, was published by California Coldblood, an imprint of Rare Bird Books.