It's raining

As I watch the different colors of the sky each day and how the water can be still, but in different ways, I feel God.
It rains in different places, and it rains in my backyard as my grandmother calls from the city and witnesses a dry and cloudy day. But there will be a time for sun and a time for her to hear the rain. God will give without grudge and reveal himself in a parting of a veil, in a bird outside your window, in the rumble of city buses on a fragile concrete ground. And though the good ones don't call out, Jesus, or Babi, he is there. He has always been there.

We will resurrect; I feel it. Like flowers we are, like the raging yet still waters we are, like the flickering leaves that bloom and fall we are. And as I stare into the earth, I see God, so happy, and so lovely, smiling widely like my dad with his eyes squinted shut and teeth glowing in the sun.