A Poem from San Buenaventura

"Rest"

Thundering rain
On a red metal roof
Calls us outside
Away from a bowl
Of our freshly chopped salsa
Towards the smell of fire and renewal
We yell over the reverberations
But it is in vain
The heavy black clouds
Release their raindrops
And become a muted gray
Anger released
Turns into a moment of pure happiness
In the feeling of
Wet hair, goosebumps, salty avocados
And peace
The world is hidden away
In metal-roofed houses
From oppression and sadness
Song breaks through with the sun
It seems like dawn
Yet it's three in the afternoon
Thundering rain
On a red metal roof
Calls me to remember
God's power and grace and compassion
Rain is rest