If I were an atheist...

If I were an atheist, why would I care that you’re dead? You’re meaningless. Why would I browse through pictures, why would I search, what would be the urgency to remember your likeness, to tell your stories, to tell of your deeds, to cry, to be lonely, to long for you, to remember your touch. If I were an atheist, why would I care?

If I were an atheist, we would just live for the moment. And the moment would be gone. I wouldn’t remember. I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t tell other’s about you. You’d just be nothing. You’d just be gone. And I would have to live every day for today, with no hope for tomorrow, no hope of ever seeing anyone I have ever loved again.

If I were an atheist, I’d be so sad, because you would have just passed by me like a storm with a name, one that moves on, only to bring another sunny day, & another cold day. You'd be nothing, useless, meaningless. Your pictures would just rot. They would roll up in a drawer & be burnt like your body, useless, gone, meaningless, if I were an atheist and had no hope of ever seeing you again.

If I were an atheist why would I speak of you? Tell tales of your exploits, search for pictures I have never seen, thrill to find a recording of your voice, a video of the way you walk. If I were an atheist why would I be searching, looking for a tiny glimpse of your face, your arm, your leg, your finger, in every piece of celluloid or kilobyte I own.  Why would I hold your clothes close to my face, trying to convince myself that you are still here.

If I were an atheist and nothing awaited me beyond this life, why would I care. You would be gone, they would be gone, one day I will be gone. And we would never ever be heard from again. Just like a piece of cosmic trash.

But I am not an atheist, & I have the Hope, the sure Knowledge, the assurance of a Promise, that although our bodies & our things will deteriorate & disintegrate, our Souls will LIVE Forever. I know that I know that I know, because I am NOT an atheist. And one day I will sit at the feet of my Savior with you, with my son, & all the others that I have loved & who have moved on.

 JB

 KB

 (original poem by Karrel Buckingham (c) 2011, graphics by scrapgirls.com