Suppose that

everything that greens and grows

should blacken in one moment, flower and branch.

I think that I would find your blinded hand.

Suppose that your hand and mine were lost among numberless cries

in a city of fire when the earth is afire,

I must still believe that I would find your blinded hand.

Through flames everywhere

consuming earth and air

I must believe that somehow, if only one moment were offered,

I would

find your hand.

I know as, of course, you know

the immeasurable wilderness that would exist

in the moment of fire.

But I would hear your cry and you’d hear mine and each of us

would find

the other’s hand.

We know

that it might not be so.

But for this quiet moment, if only for this

moment

and against all reason

let us believe, and believe in our hearts,

that somehow it would be so.

I’d hear your cry, you mine –

And each of us would find a blinded hand.

-Tennessee Williams