I can(‘t) see God.

I pray you do. And this poem is for you.

I see Him every spring, when life flourishes out of nowhere, like the final push of a woman giving birth to Life,
when the most beautiful unseen flowers bloom, and bees attracted to them,
swiftly fly to drink from their nectar.

I see Him everyday, in the light of the eyes reflecting back to mine.
I hear Him in the laughter of a child, in the cry of a hurting man.
I feel Him in the hands of the elder, where every wrinkle tells a story of passing time.
I see Him as my chest rises and falls, loving me with every breath, as the blood of my heart flows like a river of life through my veins.

I see Him in the tears that flow down my cheek,
returning them to the One who brings them comfort, too.
I see Him in the open space—the one He created for you and me to dance in.
I see Him in these hands now, expressing what cannot be put into words,
but can only be felt deep down in my soul and arise from Him—
something more than human, something Godlike, something like me.

That is here.
That is alive.

I see, I feel, and I know I am one with this.
This love is me.
Knowing this, I don’t need to see.
I know myself to be Love.
I know myself to be Life.