Hold my hand,
for we are spinning
and I feel the power
of the centrifuge:
We could scatter,
we could be adrift,
we could grow cold.
Hold my hand
and we will be a wheel,
Hold my hand —
we’ll be a constellation;
With the force
of our collective gravity,
we’ll keep this warmth;
With our collective radiance
we will cohere.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 28, 2013