To the Girl With the Rainbow Stairs

Grace comes to us
in little things.
Even as we dream and struggle
for each other
and the sky and the water and the air.
Hoping, fighting
for all things to be healed and whole.
Grace comes to us
in the colors and the laughter
in the bread broken and the wine
and our voices joined and chanting.
Grace comes to us
in little things.
In the pinch of sunlight on the skin
and the wind soon to be blowing through your hair.
Grace does come.
Even in the ache of leaving.
That too is grace.
For it is the pain of joy,
and happiness,
and love.