We are all hurling through space on a rock,
and we’re all going to die. You would think
we could be holding hands and singing.
—John Bradshaw

•••

Give me your hand. Here’s mine.
Whatever we think makes us different
is not as important as what makes
us human.

So human to human, let us not think
of division, of subtraction. Let us think
of multiplication, of adding my 1 to yours,
and to his and hers and theirs

as we stand on this sphere of rock
slowly rotating on an axis we can’t see,
in these brief lives between
the first breath and the last,
the first heartbeat and the last.

We are the bridge between
the ordinary and extraordinary.
Let us not curse the darkness
but instead light a candle
for each other and all beings
everywhere.

Who doesn’t need a blessing,
another hand reaching for ours?

And, while we’re at it—
one plus one plus one plus one
and on and on—let’s raise our voices
in song, add a little harmony to feel
the chord of many resonating
deep inside our chests.

May we hold hands and sing
as long and as loud as we can,
together, until the last breath.

Amen.