Painting by Sister Annett Hanrahan

 I cannot help but see You
in these first fiery leaves of autumn,
in the swelling waves after a storm,
in the big brown eyes of my dog begging 
for a bit of breakfast.
In the way light shines through skyscrapers in New York City,
in my students sitting eager eyed in class,
and the people I walk by in the aisles of Target.
In the activist fighting racial injustice,
and the harried refugee looking for a home. 
In the one who cares for the suffering,
and the one who suffers with grace,
I see You.

And what about the dark things?
Are you in nuclear bombs
and genocides?
Are you in tidal waves
and tornadoes?
Are you in the ranting racists
and the power brokers who break others?

No—

and yes. 

You are not the darkness
but you are still in it, working and weaving 
like a slow, quiet old woman at a loom. 

It is precisely when we do not see you in all things
That we pillage the earth,
We torment and slaughter its creatures,
We malign and murder our sisters and brothers,
and deny and degrade our own dignity and worth. 

So let us see you, Logos, Christ, in and through all things
and let Your hidden Life spring forth inside us
and burst into reckless bloom before all.