If the center can not hold,
To what will I?

Cities quake and tremble,
heaving with sorrowful sighs
uttered by those burdened with pain – 
Those holding onto a heartbreaking past
and pitiless present,
their outstretched fingers brushing up against Justice,
yet always with a slippery grip.

What do I hold onto now?
To what – I cry – can I cling?

I hold onto my husband,
and let him hold onto me.
I hold onto my children,
and whisper messages of peace and love in their small ears.
I hold onto Truth,
that finds dignity in all life.
I hold onto Beauty,
that blooms like the yellow flowers of weeds clinging to the sides of the gutter.
I hold onto Goodness,
in voices demanding change and a better world.
I hold onto my neighbor.
Hold fast.