One year ago I wrote this:
It illuminates the streets so the lights are no longer needed. You can see it’s reflection in the eyes of my neighbors as they do their daily business, walk the dog, carry in groceries, run home from playing hoops at the park, talk outside their homes with second and third cousins from around the way, or sitting on the stoop listening and enjoying the cool fall air.
The sunset was stunning this evening. The sky lit up with bright pinks, serene purples, brilliant blues, and soothing yellows, and fiery reds. The clouds played their role in the revealing also. The majesty they declare is more than my heart can take and tears well up in my eyes as I hear the voices coming from below my second story street facing window. Just over the row homes in front of me, the sky calls goodnight to the sun and beckons us to watch as she reveals a new moon. The soundtrack, Spanish men, the scent, doesn’t matter anymore because the moon cleanses someplace so deep, so dark, and so scary that I wished all at once I could scream, cry, and dance under it’s light.
I wanted to ask forgiveness. I wanted to yell, “Be quiet! You’re missing it!” I wanted to dance to the moon’s invite. Come children of Camden, see yourselves in me, see yourselves in our Creator who loves and adores you, who never forgets and always hears your plea. Dear Creator of the moon, and the sky, of the brilliant colors, and the cool fall wind, of the Latino men outside my window, of my neighbors big and small, of this universe and everything in it, I see you. I see your grace everyday and I am blessed by your mercy. Continue to grow me up as a good neighbor and a forgiving friend. Build peace is the hearts of all creatures great and small. Thank you, for even the smallest reminder, that light shines in the darkest of places.
It is still relevant. Today. In Los Angeles.